I am a lodger

I am a lodger

A hermit crab

Too thin-skinned.

My shell is too small

Nothing fits

It’s not a matter of opinion

There is no free space

To manoeuvre.

A threadbare dust bug

I shed my skin regularly

Am I no more than a snake?

A serpent

Would have a forked tongue

And I would like to think

That is not me.

Perhaps we are all capable of untruths

Judas thought he was

Doing the right thing

For a time.

Peter kept schtum

If you believe the stories

Are more than a metaphor.

Self-preservation

Is not to be dismissed

Out of hand

When the walls close in.

As a survival mechanism,

It is up there

With a hard shell

Wings and fast feet.

The Hermit crab

Moves from place to place

Chasing his dream

Of mobility

Using baby steps

And seems to keep

The Wolf from the door.

Without the need for

Metamorphosis.