Cellar

Behind the cans of salted pea,

a thing is growing, wild and free,

in places where it shouldn't be

without a lick of light.

The mesh is tight around the skin.

The starch is turning pale and thin.

The sightless limbs begin to win

their way across the shelf.

One white and translucent eye

is reaching for a sunless sky.

It doesn't need a reason why

to stretch out in the dark.