vaporize 2010

little boy with bangs sits

in his room

underneath the bed

“i am afraid of monsters,” he says.

his hands fold stress into fraying carpet

“come out, come out, don’t be afraid!”

those are the words of a mother

to whom monsters are of foreign shape

and smell; she does not see claws

in the shadows, the dark outlines of fear.

he crouches down, pulls himself smaller,

grows his eyes into protestations, yet

his mom insists on dragging him out

from under the bed, unwilling, shouting:

(these are his thoughts encapsulated for historical purposes)

“if mommy can’t see the monsters,

how is she going to help me

vaporize them?”

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