Jason Irwin: 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.

Copyright 2016 Jason Irwin. From A Blister of Stars published by Low Ghost Press.