— and they play along the arm

There they crouch/
And play along
The arm of a couch
Ripped apart
By comfort’s needs
To be where
No one can see.

We lay here,
On a couch that
Has let us be
And been a bitch
To move. But,
Here we lay, where
Our family knows
All are near if
To be hidden or fall’n
Asleep.