dressed in old red velvet
with mahogany lion's feet,
it lived in the basement of my grandmother's house.
in front of the indoor garden
that was overgrown
the sullied sofa seemed to growl
at me in my swimsuit and bare feet
creeping on tiptoes
across the peel-and-stick carpet
that was damp with cold slime.
I was heading for the bathroom
just on the other side,
and gave the beast a wide berth--
hoping I would make it
to the toilet
and out again
without being eaten alive.
The prompt for April 1, 2013 was submitted by Laurel Ann Bogen: "Write a poem about a sofa from your youth."