POETRY BY NOLCHA FOX

The Thing Under the Bed

It started small, a ball

of dust and string. I

fed it crackers, fairy

tales, and lightning

storms. I washed

it with my tears. It

breathed out red

hot fire, it

basked in fights,

the screams,

the punches. It

drank the liquor in

the house and grinned

when Daddy hit

my brother. I

finally saw the

thing that hid

and saw that

it was me.

Last Lover

You leave me gifts

at my front door:

leaves dancing in the wind,

sudden snow storms,

lightning flashes.

You watch me when

I watch the dogs

scrambling out the door.

You smell the coffee

brewing, trickling in my cup.

You laugh at me for

locking doors

and windows.

There is no way

to keep you out.

Someday you’ll come to get me

no matter if

I run and hide.

You are my final lover,

you are the kiss of death.

Nolcha (@NolchaF) has written all her life, starting with poop and crayons on the walls. That led to a long career in technical writing. She retired into creative writing. Her poems have been published in WyoPoets News, Duck Head Journal, Ancient Paths, and The Red Lemon Review.