Beast

in the stories there is a beast, a thing without a face or form
             a collection of fur fangs & dank fear. not the metaphor but the thing itself 

stories vary but in each of them the beast lives in a cave
            or the cellar of an abandoned house afraid that the light will strike it dead

variation aside there is always a girl but how she meets the beast
            why she loves it subject to interpretation. don't guess unless you've

been loved so ridiculously yourself 
           always the girl enters the house cellar cave or forest daily 

always she calls to the beast "always, always" with her red clarion her 
           tender trumpet while it the beast entered called again collapses 

back red-eyed into its creche of smashed lightbulbs its tabernacle of 
          bats which also whispers "always, always" with a cruel violin. 

now and again the beast reaches a toe a finger into the light
          then draws back into its catacomb of dark whispers its temple of night grapes. 

each day the girl calls. each day the girl calls. 
          then one day she does not. she has given up or has died. maybe 

not the story you expected but this is a truth too. 
           say the beast waits five days or ten before  the absence of the girl's 

voice draws it out terrified but in love the more. can you imagine 
          which was greater? how beautiful finally the clean taste of sunlight 

or how heartbreaking the bone-snap of loss.