It is Day 662 of the daily poems. Our poet Eithne Cullen finds some silver – Buried Treasure or part of the bio-balance of the earth?
Silverfish
The walls are Farrow and Ball
the floor engineered like planks of pine
the light comes via a sensor
but you, tiny, wingless creature,
fish-insect with papery grey skin,
don’t set the sensors off.
And you dart so quickly.
Harmless, I’m told,
part of the bio-balance of the earth,
teardrop of movement,
carrying those antennae –
I’m told you are harmless but
you get into books and to paper,
carpets and clothes – and
Google the question…
“Will you ever go away?”
looks like we’re both here to stay.
Eithne Cullen