Monster by Anne Di Baguette
at noon the monster
shakes away the
embryonic safety
of quilted caverns
and a warm den
dreams still cling to her limbs,
hanging in whispers
round her neck
the monster shrugs off
their demanding embrace and
blinks
(she sleeps head to end, to
confuse the foot vampires)
around her
angels float suspended,
offering courage in their fashion,
bidding good day
with smiles and
scented smoke
and lyrical wisdom
a primordial language of
undecipherable guttural growls
precedes her stalk
down the dark corridor
to a place of light
and good smells,
stopping only to receive a fairy’s kiss
(or perhaps a pause to confirm the
tiny winged-one’s sage appraisal that
indeed, this monster walks)
the monster emerges
with bleary eyes
and a tousled mane that
defies comment,
but the hot liquid is soothing
sipped slowly
with deliberation
the monster we made
breathes fire and tosses
the cares of the world into
the bulging sack she carries over her shoulder,
and aside from these, I can’t see a thing I would change 02/17/2003 Posted on 12/01/2017 Copyright © 2024 Anne Di Baguette
|