november twenty-second time

I am drawing a bath to lure the monsters to drink.
I am stacking a pile of candy bars under the bed.

The impressive sack of money is on the closet floor
to the left of the rare vintage boots and the right
of the complete stamp collection. I am begging. I am
leaving the front, back, and side doors unlocked.

I am building a rope made of blankets, I am leaving
the hallway light off. I am blinking         often, I am
quiet and exposed, I am waiting naively: one ear
pressed to wall and another to pillow.

I need reminding--the hard way--of how
to be afraid of the dark. Of the value
and convenience of being alive.