∗ my monster

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My Monster 

A response to the conviction of Larry Nassar*


My monster doesn't have scales or horns, 

he has glasses and dark hair. 

My monster doesn't live under my bed, 

he lives at the doctor's office. 


"Monsters aren't real," 

my mother assures me from the 

safety of the waiting room. 


"The doctor will see you now," 

the nurse assures me from the 

safety of the reception glass. 


I shrink into my hospital gown 

as the doctor licks his lips 

and approaches me with hungry eyes. 

His frozen, jagged talons find their way 

to my budding bre-sts and the blossoming 

tree between my knees that grows 

the most forbidden of fruits. 


Twenty years later, I find my monster. 

My monster now wears bright orange, 

while his talons are clipped and cuffed. 

I tell my story alongside other girls 

that this monster haunted long after 

they had blossomed from girls to women. 


The gavel of justice rains down 

on my monster like hellfire. 

Lady Justice calls from the Heavens, 

"I just signed your death warrant." 


The tears fall like rain as our monster 

spends the next 175 years in servitude. 

And the trees from down below begin 

to cultivate their fruits once again, 

as though they had gone untouched 

by both men and monsters alike. 


*Larry Nassar was sentenced to over 175 years in prison for s*xually assaulting nearly 150 young girls and women over the course of his medical career

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