Monster

and every once and again, a monster
who locks his children in the basement
arrives to make us feel free, to remind us of
original sin, to tap at the core of our
vulnerability, to remember in the midst of
back-patting laughter at the dinner table
how very far we have to go.

some take these
newspaper clippings and smile on their
neighbors with love, while others squint small
eyes with scorn.

we are too many islands
huddled on dry land. the immaculate lawn that
separates our white picket fences, an ocean of
misunderstanding, a blanket of misshapen manners,
a break in trust, the involution of loneliness like a
cosmic gutter sucking out the water of life.
if we let it.

and yet.
we all just want to be seen.
to not be forgotten.
to be tapped on the shoulder and chosen for the team.
for a monster sleeps in the cool, dark corridors of our hearts.
and our cloaked claims of separation are the oxygen he breathes
as we the outraged masses turn our gaze and fill our glasses,
misery waits merrily in the color tube that brings the morning news
as hazy heads make sense of shapes, words and pictures.
monster. ah yes. we'll be needing one of those.