The Monster Gecko

THE MONSTER GECKO
March 1, 2005


A monster on tiny feet stalks the hall
and the rooms and the corners and the floors
and the ceilings and the windows and the wall
and it tip-toes underneath the crack beneath the doors.

Gollum-like it ribbons carpets like they're moors
and spins its feet quick as a wind-up toy.
Let loose all over anything indoors,
its presence worries me; it does annoy.

It jumps, it drops, then, feigning to be coy,
it ducks behind the curtain, couch, or chair,
scheming, plotting, working on a ploy
to give another fright, a jolt, a scare.

I wish I didn't worry, fret, or care
but when from ceilings monsters hang and fall
I just don't care to see them lying where
they pick right up and go from where they sprawl.