Michael T. Young: The Monster Under My Daughter’s Bed
During bedtime my little spider monkey
asked what we’re doing about global warming,
and I struggled to be honest,
because I knew I was failing her,
because I’m not breaking down doors
or burning flags, but like a president
I’m disregarding all the agreements
we agreed to, allowing her spirit animal
to go extinct for the logging industry,
taking tourist pictures of glacial ice melt,
raising stronger Katrinas
from the warm and rising seas.
And she who fears lightning and rain
shook beside me. So I put my arm around her
because I’m supposed to give her
a safe world to learn and love,
but I can’t, because we’re drilling deeper,
cutting faster, we’re exploding our way
to the burning blue center of fossilized life,
until we stare into the coal black eyes
of the monster we assure our children
doesn’t exist, but I hear snort and growl
when I kiss my daughter on the head
and send her to sleep.
Michael T. Young’s collections of poetry include The Infinite Doctrine of Water (Terrapin, 2018).
Copyright 2019 Michael T. Young
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