Bedtime Behemoth
I
Owl light on the nightstand.
A pendant of ABC’s.
The soft colors picked
pregnant radiate a womb:
Safe. You can hear the ocean
approaching from a machine.
II
Now: a broken dollhouse, dirty underwear wet
socks, a bin of piss-soaked pajamas. Smeared
white walls from blackened crusty
feet and asteroids of boogers.
III
They fight you as you ready them
They fight you as you sing to them
They knock you in the teeth and land
IV
on your privates from several heights in the air
ungrateful, spoiled, selfish beasts
feral as racoons, mouths frothing
viruses. You want to shove them
in the trunk of the car and drive
them to a forest, release the pups
with the wolves but the ground
has already hardened into granite
and just now their eyes are falling
crooked somewhat and they look perfect
asleep, as if packaged, but soon they will wake
so soon. So so so so so soon.
V
Just Remember:
One day they will be gone,
No more light escaping their room.