NaPoWriMo #3 - Grilled hamster feet

Grilled hamster feet

I used to lie awake with worry of what to save
if the house caught fire: a whole cage
plus hamster or armfuls of possessions

- warm clothes, some shoes, a painting of a horse;
photograph albums, novels to read,
sketchbook; my favourite duvet cover - instead.

Indecision and consequence. I might sleep
by the time the fear has faded enough to ignore
but my dreams are of grilled hamster feet,

the blackened stripes of hot metal bars scored deep.
And all the saved things hugged close in the night outside,
the smell of singed fur drifting through the heat.