Children fear the dark, but I
Feared the one who lived there,
Deep in the closet, behind
The dresses, jackets, and shoes.
She rarely greeted me herself,
Instead sending her band of goons,
Discolored pigs, crows, and gators
To check if I was there, lying awake,
Frozen at the thought of their visitation.
She ruled my bedtime for years,
Banning me from a late night
Glass of water or trips to the restroom.
At the age of six, I decided to rid her
From the closet and take back bedtime.
That night, when her gremlins appeared,
I stood waiting. Her pale, horned
Face seemed startled by my defiant
Presence, but I shook her hand,
And evicted her from my closet.
I haven’t seen her since.