The wallpaper hides some mysterious creatures
that merely emerge when the air of a room
has tabled its task herding dust into corners
to glom into bunnies and wait for the broom.

They've never been captured on film or recording
but nevertheless their existence is clear:
evidence of their presence is found in the absence
of objects that, without a word, disappear.

The Screeleval Chinvorl, for one, specializes
on small metal treats with irregular grooves
that it melts with the heat of its thirty-two eyeballs,
relenting when every last key is removed.

The Shingularr Toobmaveen lurks near the laundry,
its fickle eye fixed to a warm woolen prize.
Its finely tuned fashion sense forces the creature
to sneak but one sock, and not once the same twice.

But odder still find we the Phappirex Creetoo
that hides in the wallet, subsisting on air.
It causes no harm but for one irksome trait: it
excretes old receipts to bedizen its lair.

Geneticists posit the quest for survival
evolved in these species a penchant to drive
their cohabitators to frazzled distraction:
On human vexation they merrily thrive.

 
NaPoWriMo 2005, April 18