a field guide to lemon

Demons are smaller than one might expect.
They land on the shoulder, like specks of sulphur,
then climb into the inner ear,
setting up their equipment on collapsible tables.

I can feel one now, glowing like an ember,
his tiny claws scratching and scraping,
his voice like a gramophone, urging me on
to tell you how much I hate you,

but I will ignore him, as you should,
unless you do not believe in demons,
but only in the pleasant things of life,
of which, I am told, there are numerous examples.

-- Tom Jenks