Sunday, August 4, 2013


Loose cannon do you still cry 
when someone doubts 
there's a monster in your closet 
or claw beneath your bed? 
Is your head 
still stuffed with muffled screams 
and toy soldiers? 
What smolders 
in your corner of rusting sighs? 

Your eyes are canyons sometimes 
when light is right. 
They frighten me 
the way that monster in your closet 
frightens you. 
Stuffed gargoyle smile while 
you grew I remembered.  

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