Don't Worry, Little Monster
after Dorothea Lasky
There is a monster who sleeps in your bed.
Each morning this monster slinks toward your kitchen.
He creaks open the refrigerator door
To steal yogurt and blackberries
To eat while he sits on the hard wood floor.
When you return home you find your favorite bowl
Caked with white remnants, bits of fuzz
Scattered on your bookshelf.
Blue juice stains the pages and his tiny fangs.
But you are not mad at your monster.
The damage isn’t that bad, not yet.
Maybe in a few years, but now
You invite him back to your bed.
His horns poke into your side.
You know if you tried to have a serious conversation
He’d roll away and place a hairy shoulder
Between you until you apologized.
Besides, how could you stay mad
When you feel the vibrations as you rub his chest.
When he crawls up next to you, growling softy.
When his claws stay where they’re supposed to.
When he only bites you once a night.
