I love the way a garden gnome hoards ketchup. Crawling under the table to lick sticky fingertips. I wear a pearl necklace of the twinkling lights from your bedroom. Sucking the meat out of each bulb to illuminate my insides. I burn the flowers in your yard like candles. Charring the bees for the honey they hide. Hyde, under the bed, mouth trembling, aching for a sticky lick, even as the growling in my stomach rocks your spine to sleep.
