High Shelves

It's starting to get in the way

Staring back and bawling

I wonder why it changes shape

And if it's me it's calling

I never offer sympathy

This only fuels its rage

I cannot throw the thing away

I'll entertain a cage

Uncertain of its growing rate

Its temperament

Its health

I think it's best

To pick it up and place it on a shelf

I'll wrap it in crepe paper

I'll bind it with with brown string

I'll watch it pulse there silently

I'll open it come Spring