Creature Feature #2
Eating popcorn in front
of a black-and-white television,
my fingers drenched in
melted butter and iodized salt.
The Bride of Dracula
has made her fatal mistake,
while Frankenstein’s monster
only wants acceptance
from a crowd intent
on his eradication.
Next week, the Mummy
will lumber across my screen,
mindless as a drugged cow,
and I can stay up as late as I want,
at least until the test pattern
emerges. I watch everything,
the late-late news, the grand finale:
a rendition of the Lord’s Prayer
in sign language. Turning off
the television feels like saying goodbye
to an old friend I’m not sure
I’ll ever see again–or if I do,
one of us may have changed
into a creature no one can recognize.
I am already different:
my bathroom mirror shows a face
that has lived through
multiple bouts of terror,
and I haven’t even begun.