- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Tigers under my bed
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When I was young I used to be afraid
of tigers that crouched under the bed
and things that go bump in the night,
dark spaces full of demons and devils,
madmen lurking in lost closets, hiding
in loose clothes hanging from gallows
deep in the shadows of looming death.
I suffered through decaying nightmares
and feared what heaven was really like,
no real comfort when mother promised
I would live forever in God's kingdom.
The horror of an everlasting existence
left silent screams in my pillow at night.
I could not comprehend the unending.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to heaven
or not, but the alternatives were worse as
I tossed-turned throughout the night and
prayed for the return of the morning light.
And today? Well, today I am an early riser,
just in case death is more like sleep and
there really are tigers under my bed.
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