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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 © 2022 Anne Di Baguette

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