There Are Monsters
draw the blanket over your head
like in the womb, all that’s heard is
your heartbeat and your breathing and
you strain your ears to hear the monster on the other side.
tuck blanket around you tight to make
a cocoon.
it gets hot quickly, but it must be braved
because whatever’s in the closet will not be merciful if you peek your head out
so the hotness has to stay.
if my body is rigid, the monster will have a harder time
tearing me up.
stop shaking, it’ll see you.
squeeze your eyes shut tight and
try to be as quiet as you can,
but under the blanket it sounds as if you
might as well be yelling, “Here I am,
monster,
come and get me!”
try to stop breathing, but
oxygen is essential in this
heated, stressed, fearful place.
repeatedly tell yourself that
there is no monster, there is no monster
but what if there is?
that chance will not be taken.
burrow deeper into the
blanket and hope that you look
just like a pillow, so that it won’t
find you or notice you or
hurt you.
you consider calling for your mommy
but what if that alerts the monster?
what if it finds you?
what if your mommy gets hurt?
no, no, that’s ridiculous, your logic tries to say,
there is no monster.
just call for your mom, everything will be fine.
and so you open your mouth and suck a deep breath in to
yell as loud as you can,
but only a whisper escapes and
you clamp your mouth shut,
eyes wide.
too much fear.
more fear when you realize that
you’re alone, and your mommy
can’t help you.
be brave, be brave,
and you slowly begin to relax,
humming songs in your head to try and distract yourself from
listening intently to sounds of the monster.
but even through the lullabies,
you are on red alert,
and the next old creak that the
house makes sends a
ripple through the blanket.
calm down, calm down
there is no monster, there is no monster.
what feels like hours pass, and your eyelids
start to droop.
must stay awake, must stay awake
to fight the monster when it comes
so that it won’t eat me and I won’t
die.
but it’s out of your hands and
your body begins to relax and
the heat becomes pleasant and
your mind starts to calm and wander.
and before you know it, you’re asleep
in your blanket cocoon womb
that’s in the back corner of your bed, by the wall,
facing the closed closet that
didn’t open.
and while you sleep and dream peacefully,
the doorknob turns ever-so-slowly,
and the monster pokes its head out and
licks its lips with a sort of
sick pleasure,
bidding its time before it comes out to consume you.
but you’re peacefully asleep,
and you see none of this,
so the monster gives a whispered, evil laugh
and slowly pulls the closet door shut,
and leaves you to rest in peace
until the next time you return for sleep.
like in the womb, all that’s heard is
your heartbeat and your breathing and
you strain your ears to hear the monster on the other side.
tuck blanket around you tight to make
a cocoon.
it gets hot quickly, but it must be braved
because whatever’s in the closet will not be merciful if you peek your head out
so the hotness has to stay.
if my body is rigid, the monster will have a harder time
tearing me up.
stop shaking, it’ll see you.
squeeze your eyes shut tight and
try to be as quiet as you can,
but under the blanket it sounds as if you
might as well be yelling, “Here I am,
monster,
come and get me!”
try to stop breathing, but
oxygen is essential in this
heated, stressed, fearful place.
repeatedly tell yourself that
there is no monster, there is no monster
but what if there is?
that chance will not be taken.
burrow deeper into the
blanket and hope that you look
just like a pillow, so that it won’t
find you or notice you or
hurt you.
you consider calling for your mommy
but what if that alerts the monster?
what if it finds you?
what if your mommy gets hurt?
no, no, that’s ridiculous, your logic tries to say,
there is no monster.
just call for your mom, everything will be fine.
and so you open your mouth and suck a deep breath in to
yell as loud as you can,
but only a whisper escapes and
you clamp your mouth shut,
eyes wide.
too much fear.
more fear when you realize that
you’re alone, and your mommy
can’t help you.
be brave, be brave,
and you slowly begin to relax,
humming songs in your head to try and distract yourself from
listening intently to sounds of the monster.
but even through the lullabies,
you are on red alert,
and the next old creak that the
house makes sends a
ripple through the blanket.
calm down, calm down
there is no monster, there is no monster.
what feels like hours pass, and your eyelids
start to droop.
must stay awake, must stay awake
to fight the monster when it comes
so that it won’t eat me and I won’t
die.
but it’s out of your hands and
your body begins to relax and
the heat becomes pleasant and
your mind starts to calm and wander.
and before you know it, you’re asleep
in your blanket cocoon womb
that’s in the back corner of your bed, by the wall,
facing the closed closet that
didn’t open.
and while you sleep and dream peacefully,
the doorknob turns ever-so-slowly,
and the monster pokes its head out and
licks its lips with a sort of
sick pleasure,
bidding its time before it comes out to consume you.
but you’re peacefully asleep,
and you see none of this,
so the monster gives a whispered, evil laugh
and slowly pulls the closet door shut,
and leaves you to rest in peace
until the next time you return for sleep.