Jonny Quest got me thinking early about invisible monsters.
The ones you cannot see but lurk and moan deep
inside beckoning caves, that can only be made visible
by luring them closer to light or dousing with a bucket
of paint or snaring in a camp blanket.
I was four and impressionable. I was scared of everything.
Mute, shallow breathing underneath a sheet, my toes pressed
to points as I melted into the mattress hoping the monster
would mistaken me for a pile of laundry, might back away
from the bear on my pillow.
It’s been a lifetime of opening closet doors, peering around
corners, inside of, underneath, behind. If words are
the paint, the blankets that give monsters form, the flash-
light that guides my steps through every dark cave, I nod
to Jonny and his dog, Bandit. They taught me there’s more
than one way to catch a monster.
Early Morning Poems 