Slay the Monster

Slay the monster under the bed

It’s what childhood exists of

Monsters in closets and under beds

rising from creaky floorboards and dark divides

The unknown has always had a way of haunting us

but my monster didn’t stalk closets

My monster didn’t even bother to hide

Bold-faced and bathed in the scent of laundry must

Video games and Star Wars

Wire-rimmed glasses and a Toyota Corolla

There are so many tiny details I can recall about my monster

He never went bump in the night

because no time of day was safe

I can’t tell you where my flight took off to,

only from

My boarding pass, a dark globe of fabric

accompanied by emotional stab wounds

A cry so silent, that only the ancestors could hear it

My bedtime stories never housed a hero

The cavalry never came…

and humpty-dumpty couldn’t be put back together again

I could tell you about sutures and scars rips and tears

I could tell you about anger and hate

I could even tell you about dying, the way I wanted to, repeatedly, for years

And maybe the way I did, in a sense

I can’t tell you where my flight took off to, though,

only from

Perhaps I never really landed…

My monster still roams and I may never know

If he should have changed shape, walking in plain sight

But just like my monster, I’m not hiding

I promise, my bite is far worse than his now

and no time of day will be safe-