Things go bump in the night
in my soul.
Sometimes they go bump in broad daylight:
shameless creatures.
Not sure where they hide.
Maybe behind my spleen,
or in the shadow of an adenoid, whatever that is.
Teethy and hairy and claw-ey, they DEMAND
I appreciate and recognize their bumps,
their tripping around, their monstering.
They feed on that sort of attention, you see.
But not everything that slithers in the night
–or the day–
Needs to be answered.