“Monsters Are” my fourteenth ekphrastic response for National Poetry Month prompted by another painting showing the striking art of Marcel Herms.

14 The day Mickey Mouse turned bad[24810]

Monsters Are

excuses. Your work mate
next door neighbour

are far more scary. How imperfect
does a person need to be
to be called a monster?

Must we see them as inhuman,
not human but animal, an it

that invades our personal space
that sees us as things to be made

insecure, unsafe, violated.

Smash the glasses of our celebration
of life, cut their hands on our shattered
homeliness and friendship

bleed all over our complacency.

 

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