it
was there when he woke before dawn
twisting
his guts into knots of hot barbed wire
he
dragged it
to
the shower with him
a
dead weight as big and black as thunder
it
was always there
and
by the time the birds were bawling
and
the weak winter sun drew shapes round the curtains
it
had shrunk to a large black dog
laying
on the greasy kitchen lino
and
by the time he left for work
it
was packed tight in a backpack
and
just about light enough to travel
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