POEM: The Day My Toaster Was Replaced By a Cactus

Today I went to make toast but the toaster had been replaced by a cactus.
I am not afraid of cactus, but toasters scare me to death.
When I was young, I’d heard stories of people getting shocked
sticking forks or knives into the trap-like slots that hold the bread for toasting.
I was certain that my toaster would lure me into its mouth &
I would be the victim of its sharp electric teeth.
Perhaps those living in cactus climates – Arizonans or Texans – have their
Own horror stories about cactus, of those impaled on barbs & left for dead.
Maybe there are stories of hemophiliacs bleeding to death after
A sad encounter with a cactus rescued from a local nursery.
We carry our orange-cone stories as a warning
but the things we acquire through saturation are hardest to quit
No cactus has ever threatened me
nor born me any ill  will
save for this craving for a single slice of buttered toast.