Monster

I was a zygote then—

a coin in my mother’s purse,

a fish, swimming in the brine

of her sins. I was the tiny monster

growing inside her, always

needing, always reaching.

Then, swaddled in my disfigured armor,

I howled and squirmed. Priests

and soothsayers were summoned

with their incantations and blessings.

But the monster lived, consumed our lives,

and became something other –

a manifestation of our fears.

On rainy nights when the roof leaked,

when the bills piled up, nights I lay

in the hospital waiting for X-rays or surgery,

the monster’s shadow stained the walls.

Sometimes I imagined he was a warden

locking the doors. Sometimes he was the doctors,

with their tiny knives and mouse-black eyes.

Sometimes I swear he was God.

Jason Irwin, "Monster" from A Blister of Stars. Copyright © 2016 by Jason Irwin. Reprinted by permission of Jason Irwin.

Source: A Blister of Stars (Low Ghost Press, 2016)