Stuff.

Stuff trespasses in stealth,
like a twisted
thief in the night.

At first, stuff
just violates a drawer, but
then too a closet, and
an attic, a garage, a now-homeless car.
Stuff overflows the furniture, the floors
and next, moves
beyond the physical spaces
until you find you carry

And where
among all this stuff
do you keep yourself?

Lock this silent prowler out
before your own figure
dissolves away to darkness.