Here Be Monsters
There are monsters under the bed.
Ones we fear, ignore, pretend aren’t there.
There are monsters in the minds of men
who hold the guns and push the buttons
and sign the papers.
There are orange monsters with tiny
hands who grab women by the pussy and
lock up children.
There are monsters who think that if they
tell us seeking asylum is illegal we will
And we do.
Under the bed are more monsters made
from toxic waste
that eat and choke and smother the
whole world piece by piece.
There are monsters who rape women in
parks and then
even more monsters
with vicious claws
asking what she was doing there
what she was wearing
why she didn’t do
And what of the pink and blue monsters
that hide beneath the beds of children
whispering to them the things that they
ought to be? What of them?
The monsters that we hold
so tight to our chest
and say are important. Part of tradition.
There are monsters hiding in the mirror
who look like
These are the hardest to fight because
they aren’t really there.
Monsters with fangs that bite.
There are monsters who work together
to protect themselves.
Monsters who hurt children
and spread hate
and make money
and tell lies
and call this love
and ask people to have
There are monsters that hide in the
shadows in alleys and railway stations
and feed off the people who have
under which a monster might hide.
And there are monsters in the light
who walk right past.
And those of us who sleep in safe beds at night
free of monsters
should dream of those who came before
and fought for us.
There are monsters hiding under the bed
because we put them there.
Because we can’t see them there.
Because it’s easier.