The couch is not really a couch-
it’s wood and stuffing and nails,

but still I sat upon the ersatz couch
and switched off the lamp,

though it wasn’t really darkness,
for I could still see,

and then climbed next to me
Despair in the strange light,

with effort and failing limbs,
clawing itself up onto a cushion,

and I scratched behind its ears,
and ran my hand down its side,

until that once-terrible creature
smiled its gums
and rested its head in the valley
of my lap.