Monstrum Poeticum
By Tom Mangione
Poetry, you are a monster.
I was told to stay away from you.
I was told to head for the safe and warm:
To dip myself into the safe and warm
Toes-first, testing the waters of the safe and warm
Sliding in up to my waist, warming my navel in the safe and warm
Letting the pleasant tingle work through my innards as I slid deeper into the safe and warm
Until I was submerged, cut off from air, sucking a tube to breathe in the safe and warm
Incubating for an entire lifetime in the safe and warm
But I didn’t.
I went looking for you, Poetry.
The ones who met you said you were radiant.
The ones who met you called you attractive as the sun.
The ones who met you said you’d stick in my eyes – an image impossible to blink away.
The ones who met you said I’d go blind – screaming, bat-fogged blind,
Blind from you, Poetry, babbling about you, from you, for you.
The ones who met you said you’d possess me.
I imagined you’d be a beautiful woman:
Body heavy and full with smooth curves
Eyes carved from the gems glinting in waking, bright-morning dreams
Hair flowing in an eternal wind on which you bounded
Legs smooth and slender dancing every step
Feet arched, giving way to symmetric, dainty toes Continue reading…





