The Monster Outside the Closet
a poem about a monster, maybe
In today’s morality tale, the Underside waxes poetic about how our faults come back to haunt us, even while growing both monstrous and familiar.
Or maybe it’s just about a monster living in the closet that gets bigger. Don’t read too much into everything. If it offends you, address your concerns to me, and please, make it publishable!
To everyone else: Happy Sunday, Happy Spring, Happy Tax Day, Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Ramadan, Happy Eclipse, Happy MLB opening day, Happy Final Four, and whatever else you’re celebrating or hiding from this time of year.
The following poem originally appeared in Jitter, Issue 6
The Monster Outside the Closet
by Luke D Evans
The monster in the closet is little.
He hides in my shoes
when I open
the door. With bulging eyes
and a mouth
wide with half-formed teeth, he smiles
as I ruffle the fur on his head.
He scarfs every scrap
smuggled in. The monster in the closet is scratching
at the door while I sleep. When I shush him,
he stops shyly and resumes
in a minute.
Sometimes he growls, but it doesn't mean
anything.
I am growing thin
as he eats all my meals.
The monster in my closet has moved
under my bed. When he shifts his position,
I fall to the floor,
and must hurry
to avoid being eaten.
He likes me, I know,
but his appetite is fierce and discerns
neither sense nor restraint.
The monster is loose
in the hallway.
He hides in the linens, then sneaks
to the shower and growls at the curtain.
When my father traverses the hall,
the monster is a shadow
waiting to be seen.
The monster is too big
for the house.
His stomping awakens the neighbors,
but my parents won't notice.
They recognize his voice, how it roars,
and his footsteps, how they clap.
He is fed from the inside
of me, and will soon be no more
than a monster.
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