In grade school I knew a girl named Sylvia who collected
her baby teeth in a jar, which she hid under her bed
to keep the monsters away.
Sometimes I wonder where all those teeth are now,
and then I wonder if they were a metaphor
for all of Sylvia’s sadness.
She once told me that for each year she was alive,
she learned to lie a little bit better
and that she can whisper that the monsters are gone
and she will almost believe herself.
I almost pity her but then I remember that my monsters
hide in the secret corners of my body, beneath fingernails,
in the hollow cracks of my bones, and sometimes
in the crease behind my knees.
And though it’s hard to realize,
every monster checks under its own bed before falling asleep, too.
Maybe Sylvia has learned this now, in all the years
since I’ve last seen her,
but only time will tell.
Collaboration with the wonderful www.wildflowerveins.tumblr.com.