Their life was in need of a Wellington, yes, curly

and easy to kill. Their life was in need of a silly

distraction, something to swap for a pill. They

hadn’t a clue where to find such a thing and feared

for that when they do, it’d make so much noise that

the neighbors would wake and say take it back to the

zoo.

Does time ever wonder why it isn't love,

Do seconds wish they were kisses and hugs,

Are moments jealous of memories, is time

always that tough.

Monster! Monster! Why are you there?

Under my bed, with your claws and your hair.

You fill me with so much dread

Every time I go to my bed.

I hear your claws scrape on the floor

As I race to my bed from the door.

Your growling and snarling keep me awake

Until sleep overcomes my frightened shakes.

I am told that you’re not real

But that is not what I feel.

I have proof that you exist

But adults can’t see through your magical mist.

The fear you cause must come to a stop

But I know I can’t call a cop

So to bring you to your grisly end

I’ve made the monster in my closet my best friend.

Eleven minutes

before you go

dark railroad

out of town

Ten minutes

You slick your hair

start walking

out the door

Nine minutes

I beg

make love

once more

before you go

Eight minutes

you shrug

and keep

on walking

seven minutes

run after you

you’re down

the block

footprints

on my back

Six minutes

grab

your shirt

rips

right off

leaving me

nothing

Five minutes

I catch up

to you

shove you

into road

Four minutes

speeding car

runs over you

Three minutes

on stretcher

Two minutes

at ER

one minute

dead

and

my clock

starts

once more.

I talk to myself in the still mirror

tracing a trail of tiny air pebbles,

I stop breathing in synchrony

to your heartbeat, encased

in a folded cage, trapping me

in a place I try valiantly to escape.

You can’t hear me in my mirror

my words are scattered, invisible

a translucent force, backhanding me,

in an eye blink, I turn to face nothing,

obliterated swirling thoughts, unknown.

Why can’t anyone else hear me?

I am mirrored in the weeds of indifference

surely you know what I am saying, but

my open estuary confesses only to me.

I beg of you to feed my raging fire

by listening to the image in my mirror.

Must I be the only one to validate

my worth, hidden in intensity?