Monster Holiday - Donna Munro

The lives of monsters are not as simple as you might think.

Monster Holiday
by Donna Munro

          “Careful with that,”
          said the monster
          to the mover
          with the glass jar
          full of knapsacks and toes,
          “and that too,”
          he said (or was it she?)
          of the mirror
          with knapped edges.

          Arrow,
          enter the moon,
          buy a statue of love.

          Court a courtly lover,
          grease the banjos in their apartments
          go over the figures
          of department store dummies
          still wearing the light
          green seersucker dresses
          of a 1970’s dream,

          still asking for extra,
          whichever it might be,
          whether syrup or milk,
          ointment or string.

          Climbed up the fire escape with a noose,
          sat on a stone sill. Said,
          “Why kill yourself?
          You’re gonna die anyway.”

          It made a lot of sense.
          Peered in at the door
          for a look at something
          far from ordinary, though dull.

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