In a voyage into the shoreline of my childhood,
I felt a hand tethering my breath and cutting it into a clan
of monsters.
A voice pitched into my ears and said, IOh Robin,
there are no monsters in the dark except the shadows IIyour eyes, curious,
morphed into a flute.
IIIYour hearts in a cage clandestine with tendrils,
thin & coiling, IVtwining from root to route like the hair
of Medusa
dancing off its twist. VThis is how it all begins. VIAt the dusk
of the night, 1600 years ago, VIIa hummingbird hovered over
a streetlight
VIII& a shadow X times the size of a human body with a hundred
layers of flesh billowing into XIworms, vampires, lycans & all
the spirits
hanging on the clothesline of the night Xcrept through the ribs
of the windows into rooms and XIwashed their names on walls,
under the beds,
in the spike of dust, & on the jawline of terrors XIIuntil the entire sphere
collapsed into this turmoil, XIIIunhinged equilibrium.