childhood nightmares never go away
the roaring lions and underground hollows
the things in corners, cupboards, under beds
I force myself to wait until it is morning
to call out to my parents--on a phone line
to hear them tell me everything will be okay
In every country a small goddess runs away
refuses worship, says she wants to be normal
asking: surely, it's better to take than to just give
I see how she forces herself to still in hollows
as animals stare, scatter, screech in importance
I see how she wills her silence, says she'll be okay
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Pic: Scout tells me this poem is bunk and sticks out his tongue.