Babysitter

nothing to fear here, just the
family man.
no reason to cry, just the
trusted man.
no nightmare in there,
just the man by
your bed. stop trembling
Now.
they’ve all gone, and it’s
Bedtime.

Bedtime

No monsters here in Grandad’s bed
he’ll tuck you in and say goodnight
and watch your dreams lie, slumber-led
No monsters here in Grandad’s bed
least, none that retreat from covered head
or vanish at a gleam of light
No monsters here in Grandad’s bed
he’ll tuck you in and say goodnight.

BlueBeard

We kept the children away,
listened to
bleeps
hisses
clicks
hums
waiting for him to die.

He was paper-thin, only
dangerous
in memory and nightmare but
we watched
murmured soothings as he
dragged at air
and kept the children away

We shed tears for the creature,
sang prayers for his soul
scattered his ashes in earth
and kept the children away.

Goodnight

I pluck you
prune you,
stuff you in art.
Your penance, to be
mangled in words.

You’re dead.
I cannot pretend I’m not
relieved. But
ash and dirt don’t care
what I call them, and
sullying your name
sours my breath.

I’m tired of your
memory, bile has
blistered my tongue.

First published in Blue Dog Vol.5 No.9 2006.