| Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-nine Winter 2015 |
| | | |
| And What About the Monster? Susan Slaviero Once upon a time there was a man who was a rattlesnake when the moon waxed and you thought he was the answer to a question you kept asking your parasitic twin and this is the love you deserve the kind of love reserved for the ugliest of insides all spleen and necrosis, lungless chests, the way of women who wear their organs on the outside before the autopsy. But being the Monster isn’t always about body horror. Sometimes it’s about psychology. The Monster is a liar. The Monster is a narcissist who plays doctor but only in your headspace. Gaslighting. The hidden messages scratched on your breakfast toast that warn of arsenic in the soda water, of beetles ground in your morning coffee. The Monster has a capacity for cruelty that impresses even the mongoose. There is a Monster hidden in every narrative: love stories, documentaries, even commercial breaks. Not all Monster stories are fiction. Not all Monsters are visibly ugly. If you cannot find the Monster you must make one yourself. This is easy. All you need is some plaster of paris and a breadknife, or perhaps a bit of bile and library paste. Once you have made your Monster the story writes itself. |
|
About Susan Slaviero Previous Poem | Next Poem |
| | |