Monsters In Art
Pottery scattered and came to life.
I opened up that art supply closet.
Flicked locusts off of me.
The winner in me started out severed.
Fast talking, mixed up, mangled.
Something in me took off like an old billboard torn away.
I thrived.
I throve.
I thrived like miles of sick globs.
I thrived like spikes on a cloud.
I thrived like bites unspoken.
I thrived like being stapled to the wall with a gold star.
I talked as fast as they could scarf a whole seal off the beach.
A little clay figurine.
That little, monster figurine from the supply room?
Doesn’t remind me of anything special.
And yet, the chattering continues.
Flicked those locustsssss.
I thrived.
I throve.
I was mangled and covered in drool.
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