The super glue

The super glue had a temporary home, but a home indeed,
a place that was known.
It left the Tescos and was carried by bag, to my dear household
upon which my Dad,

deposited it thus into a ceramic bowl, and there it was left
in a place that was known.


The super glue’s habitat was conspicuous, visible; it’s constant presence
remained to be physical.
It lay in its dish, separated, alone, but for some spare change
in a place that was known.

On the coffee table, before the TV, each time I walked by the tube I would see.
Contemplation of moving it was often aroused,
but why move an object so conveniently housed?

No doubt, once in a ‘safer’ place,
that glue would become completely erased;
sucked up by the house monster – that sadistic machine –
always looking to cause havoc, never to clean.

The super glue’s purpose was always intended –
a selection of jewellery needing to be mended.
But busy with shifts that went on and on,
the super glue was left in the place that was known.

So poised was that glue in his ceramic seat,
his resistance to removal was a remarkable feat.
For days he had sat, untouched and unharmed,
not just by the house sucker, but those infallible palms..

those hands with the effectiveness of a moving lorry,
the shoe shifter, object lifter in a domestic quarry.
The female magician with cumbersome powers,
capable of instigating hunts that last hours..

A task maker who frequently takes and replaces,
whilst each time leaving absolutely no traces.


No chance for intervention, the super glue’s gone,
without even a mention.
A search is futile; it’s existence no more.
For though still tangible, it will forever be sought…

To no prevail.

Once taken away, the Mother’s hands will lead it astray.
A fit-to-burst drawer, a lonely crevice, a random box;
who could guess the premises?

Once out of sight, it becomes the prey of the house monster –
its fate sealed away.

The horror to see that dish lay bare without the solvent residing there.
It’s purpose defunct, it’s location unknown.
For hands that re-house don’t take addresses down.

Lost and untraceable we find that once more
duplicate purchases are required to restore
voices to normal decibels.
As normal as can be in a high-pitched household..

By God is this routine getting old.

So naive to think I’d complete my task, without a hitch
What an ass.
As swift as a dove, as quick as a flash my belongings are gone
and will never come back.

My super glue had a temporary home, but a home it was,
a place that was known.
But temporary homes are never safe, nor any square inch of my house in this case..


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