Like every other night
I looked under the bed for monsters
and, like every other night, there were
monsters with teeth made from dead
love letters, hair the shape of homemade CDs,
VHS bones, the groan of an unplayed guitar,
smeared eyes like abandoned watercolour lessons,
the belly of a widowed running vest,
claws as dangerous as the box we must not mention.

© Carl Burkitt 2023