My Fridge

Late at night
My fridge talks to me,

It’s afraid
Of the future,

We’ve been through
So much together

And it’s heard whispers
I’m on the look out

For new comrades
And affiliates,

New confidants,
Fresh stock.

It gently gurgles tears,
Shudders sadly and gripes

As I sit drinking tea,
Shopping online;

It knows things,
Things I’ve done,

People I’ve wronged
And the lies that I’ve leaked,

It’s got dirt,
It knows what I get up to

Late at night
When I’m feeling low,

And it’s a tittle-tattler,
It never stays quiet,

It keeps the truth fresh,
Cold on the tongue,

It’s a witness in waiting,
A caged bird with songs.

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