When I was a child,
I would switch off the light at the doorway and
Before night fell into the corners of the room,
I would run swiftly to the rug in the middle of the floor.
I counted one, two, three-
Then leapt onto the middle of the bed,
hurrying under the covers and holding my breath:
One two three four five six seven eight nine ten
Making sure there were no sounds coming from the great darkness
Beneath my bed-
That I had not somehow dislodged
something
Then I could sleep.
Now I stand at the shore
Of an ocean of wept tears
There is no island of comfort
No counting charms to chant
Only the great darkness falling heavily
Into the corners of the room.
Nothing now between
me
and the monsters.
thecourseofourseasons 