the monster

the monster

at night
or when he is alone

(actually they are the same thing
to him so the
two words
night and alone
are interchangeable)

at alone
atop his covers (covers are for babies)
his long and hairy legs
one like a restless
fireman hose
the other
like that of an earnest
depression-era synchronized swimmer
both paddle against coma

yes
his legs are exactly like that

his upper body is more
passive
his heart wishes to slow
as do his lungs
and especially his tongue

inside of his head is
exactly like his legs
exactly

in this alone
he imagines he owns everyone
in a terrible way
like jesus did/does
he wants everyone
when they make a sin or a mistake
an infidelity
to apologize to him
to kiss his palms
but he keeps this
well-hidden
nailed behind his eyelids

he whispers now
eyes open
to a face
outlined like a constellation
by the cracks in his ceiling

"i will mark you
like a glacier
marks the earth.
i will take my time
with you.
you'll think this
winter is a love,
until i've melted
and left you gorged,
dug out, carved up."

now that he has said this
he wants to laugh
but instead blinks hard
and wonders if he meant it

now he thinks of blueberries
or some other kind of small potent
black fruit and he likens
that to his love
(meaning what he might give out from his heart)
rolling one gently between his
thumb and index finger
icy

"what if i pop this,
let out its puss,
its fur?
what if i paint
the right sleeve of your
white shirt with it?
you will never get it out.
and that shirt may live
a longer life with you
than i,
but it will be
forever stained
with my love's
beady rind."

both speeches now hover
in his room
in the alone
like mobiles or balloons
or clouds tending toward
rain
above he and his
weaving legs

seeing these he thinks

"i am a mini-hitler.
ready with numbers.
a mini-hitler: not as
fat."

he scratches his left knee
and then he burps - earlier
he had some milk

"no. i cannot be hitler.
i am a human, i burp.
hitler was a monster.
and me, i am not
that."

these are the things he thinks when
he is night

which is ending
the morning coming on like a
fluorescent
with its hum like a metal comb across
his scalp

those legs
once leviathan
are now dehydrated eels on the
verge of death
one step past desperation
now soup
optionless