she lays beside you on your bedroom floor
it’s too hot in july to be anywhere else
even at midnight
with a fan on
the air is heavy
you glance over, admire her in the blue glow of the moon,
appreciate her crooked teeth and lush legs
the summer heat must be getting to you
that explains the thoughts
the perversions
a deep crimson flush creeps over your cheeks
you want to reach over, yearn to do something you’ll regret
around your neck is a cross
the icy metal weighs you down
it is the only cold thing in this stifling room
you hope God cannot hear your impure thoughts
cannot hear the things you wish you could do
but above all
your mother is downstairs
she is scarier than the wrath of any god
please mother, forgive me
you take her hand and smile in the dim light
she does not pull away
your necklace does not burn.
born naked and weak
we fragile creatures should not exist,
for there are far more hungry
and menacing beings out there.
ready to feast on our flesh,
to feel viscera between their teeth.
perhaps after monsters are done hunting our young,
they will lie down to sleep.
and as they dream of delicious babies,
another beast will come for them next.
a human emerges,
once more.
a father ready to avenge the small.
he wields a weapon that is man-made to destroy.
for there is nothing worse than a monster
feasting on another’s fresh kin,
they swallow their soft bodies and drink bright blood.
bellies full and satisfied.
but when the deed is done,
the monster,
lies blue on the floor;
his black, matted fur soaked in gore.
the human man makes a discovery:
there is blood on his hands.
and entrails between his teeth.
and his child is still dead.
Grace Ward is a poet and student from Eastern-Central Missouri. She is studying Mortuary Science. Grace enjoys horror and music.