The neighbour's red hot poker plant
grew spikes so huge they bowed the stems
until they rested on the ground
but even then continued to grow
so that the flowers bent up towards
the sun with tips like snouts and quills
all pointing backwards, vibrant bright
in psychedelic orange and yellow -
hedgehogs dressed in disco wear.

I've had my suspicions for quite a while
but never had proof enough to be sure.
I've tried to ignore it with a smile
but it's getting to be a regular war.

For it keeps on happening, getting worse,
and the more it continues, the more I'm convinced
they're out to get me, chapter and verse.
And sometimes I think I've even glimpsed

them in a huddle whispering together,
planning their next move to do me down.
I still can't make up my mind whether
confronting them would turn things around.

And the way they stand there innocent like
it's none of their business, not their fault,
and then very soon there comes a spike
in incidents of the usual sort -

the bumping against me, trips and stumbles,
the jogging my elbow to make things fall,
the plasterwork crumbles, the radio mumbles,
things are too big or else too small,

the pen won't write, the key won't turn,
the shoelace bow becomes a knot,
the light doesn't work, the sausages burn -
it's all because of their bloody plot.

Objects conspire against me !