You have relations with the monstrous thing, a
moment’s respite from the malaise, the
torment in your gut, constant revulsion and
nerves on edge like little reptile
spines inside all of our limbs. I ground my
teeth together all night long while I heard the
sound of it, the clicking–it isn’t right,
nothing good clicks and chirps like that–and
worse for me not seeing
where the feelers traced
along your warm, dark skin; left to wonder about the
proboscis and how it would feel–
how it would feel to be you, I mean;
not once imagining any of it from the side of the
creature, because that would be more than my
heart could hold; that shade of grey is too
deep for my chest to keep in.
In twenty months, I will
watch them
devour you from the inside,
watch while you
become a sea of
infant monstrous things.