Bolero does something to me
when it plays I am un-Ravelled
resting my head
upon my father’s knee
soothed and calmed
at peace with the monster

that lives in me.

The lilting tune,
the rustle of drums
edge this old heart
like that striped shirt

in whites and blues
buried deep within my closet.

I hid the monster
inside my closet
yet everywhere I turn, I feel

the heat of rotting teeth
and wild eyes following me.

Every heart… has a monster
waiting to pounce
waiting to reach out,
the door creaks open
just a little wider.

You can lock the closet,

throw away the key
the monster still returns

in a flourish of trumpets

or the whisper of kettle drums

as Bolero

washes over me.