golem

I'm carving a Golem.
Made of clay and sticks
and spit
unable to fight me
when I ask it to do work
I don't want
to do

It is frozen in action;
repeating tasks
over and over again
unseen;
wet and grainy,
mired in slime

At night, I shove it away
in a closet
to crack and shatter
little by little
in the darkness

No one notices
not even in the light,
so it doesn't matter
when it falters
and trips,
everyday monsters
go unnoticed
when they walk dogs
and move sofas