A Case Of Possession (Poetry)

Our shredder’s a demon
a machine gone berserk
it chews things at random
refuses to work
when it chooses — then seizes
a DON'T FORGET list
it shreds what it pleases
and rejects the rest

Whatever its motive
it has half a mind
to be twice as noisy
as it takes to grind
the most inoffensive
and squarely-fed page
it snarls at the prospect
teeth gnashing with rage

It squats in the corner
as blind as a mole
but the slit of its mouth
shows a deeply-dark hole
that’s seldom been dumb
since the day it arrived
it splutters — grows heated
I’d swear it’s alive

And I’m certain there’s times
it helps its sly self
to the manuscripts piled
on the floor or a shelf
for copies go missing
and who cannot say
the monster gets hungry
and steals them away

Then there’s sheets I was sure that
were shredded long-since
reappear again — cobbled
like literary mince
a mishmash of poems
I don’t recognise
subversively wicked
and chopped to re-size

It has an agenda
this shredder-gone-mad
it’s in league with the printer
bound to each fad
of programming quirk-full
to stretch patience thin
so lacking plain logic
the user can’t win

If it weren’t for the kettle
that boils faithfully
I’d trash all electrics
(save nerve-soothing tea)
re-employ scissors
typewriter as well
then shredder and printer
could bug off to Hell