Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Monster

after Wallace Stevens

I

The monster is stitched and galvanic.
His tortured cries echo in
The depth of the tulgey wood.

II

I was of a single mind,
Like a monster fleeing
From torches and pitchforks.

III

The monster wandered a wasteland,
Lord of nothing, least of all himself.

IV

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a monster
Are a gruesome ménage à trois.

V

I am not sure which to favor,
The tender music of my heart
Or the sharp music of science,
The monster’s staccato pain
Or the nightingale’s dulcet song.

VI

A rainstorm turned the window
To Impressionistic glass.
The silhouette of a monster
Crossed it, to and fro,
Seeking his birthright,
Searching the shadow crevices
Of his tatterdemalion soul.

VII

O sad men of Odenwald,
Why do you worship idols of gold?
Have you not known the monster
Who rages in your sleep?

VIII

I sense the monster dreams
Of becoming a shining creature,
Clean of line and form,
An Olympian statue
In fluid motion.

IX

When the monster fled our sight
He left behind a landscape
Steeped in his legends.

X

At the sight of a monster
Shambling from the East,
Even those of certain faith
Fear an apocalyptic dawn.

XI

He had entered
The gothic carriage
When he was startled
By the ungainly shape
Of a fabled monster
Sitting opposite him.

XII

Fear is rampant everywhere.
The monster must be on the loose.

XIII

It was evening all day
Beneath the Cimmerian clouds.
It was raining
And it was going to rain.
The monster huddled alone 
In a shelter of treacherous stone.

Appeared in Birthing Monsters (Firbolg)