- 44 -

Tanner Léon

Monsters keep secrets 
shrouded in an unholy agent
in the backs of their throats. 
Monster love could be mistaken
for a séance, so unsaintly  

they cannot hide it 
beneath their stampede feet
and littered veins.
My dear, don’t fret
I will kiss you first

in my dreams
and then my nightmares—
I have tickets for both.
Don’t be tricked 
by my grin

for a scowl lingers
in the back of my head.
I know you’re hiding
more than monsters
in your closet.

I’ve heard dangerous memories 
metamorphosize while you plead
for their silence—lord 
bless the saliva of those 
who speak in tongues. 

They cannot grasp words—
slipping by like ice cubes 
covered in grease,
right through zombie hands
with cookie-crumble fingers.

Monsters



- 45 -

Around my deathbed 
dance werewolves 
while cheese factories 
burn in the distance.
My time here is claimed

and I am the monster
that ate your heart.