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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Parchment and Perfume
PoetryThis draft represents the inner workings of my mind, among other things. All of my poems and prose will be cataloged here and available for feedback. Pieces will constantly be added or removed to fit the guidelines for any poetry submissions I have...