Our bed has been seized and occupied
by a long-johned midget vigilante
traitor! - who just drew from my own decanter
and now lies, pleasantly drunk and victorious
he has set up base behind a duvet mountain
manipulated an advantaged terrain -
changed the topography to ensure he has
singular control of all domain;
strategically positioned himself in the center
at an absurd angle, leaving us no choice
than separation, each working stealthily to claim
on the outskirts, some section of land
but the east of the territory is terrorized
by unpredictable feet, and the west
by roaming hands expert in close combat
swift to strike if suddenly disturbed
(bloodcurdling screams in the dark from the pull
of unwary tresses, and if the battle call sounds
feline gashes on the face
piercing worse than shrapnel)
sir we have no choice but to retreat -
forfeit for a time, but to reinforce
the boundaries with pillows like sandbags at a flood
lest this rolling cannonball pitch over the hull
and bide our time, away to the sofa
until the commando has sunk in deeper slumber
when, disadvantaged by size, we may start our operation:
his cautious relocation (excising a land mine! -)
and huddle, expectant, somewhere by the border