Image Credit to Wikipedia
Many who suffer from sleep paralysis often see shadows in the corners of their room. Some call the shadow the devil, others the midnight man, but everyone who sees it calls it frightening. This is a poem about Donald Trump, a shadow we experience even when awake. It is about the fear he has evoked within Americans and all the ways he is unable to understand us without witnessing who we really are.
Beth saw him yesterday.
Beth is still scared.
He was at the foot of her bed.
His red eyes stared at the pride flag hanging above her head.
If only he could see the way her girlfriend looks at her.
Maria sees him today.
Maria is scared
He sneaks from out of her closet.
His claws try to snatch her coins from Mexico.
If only he could snatch the letters her mother sends her every month.
Conner will see him Wednesday.
Conner will be scared.
He will crawl from under his bed.
His growl will ring out at the sight of his chest binder.
If only he could hear how his voice has changed since being on testosterone.
I see him every day.
I live in fear.
My senses pick him up everywhere I go.
The smell of his lies.
The sound of his hate.
The image of his impulse.
The feel of his carelessness.
The taste of blood.
I want to be free of this fear.
They tell me I will get used to it.
Who am I if I grow accustomed to the devil?