My parents are shadows that lurk in your closet;
My very first word was an old man's last breath.
I watched from the wings on the night you were frightened
By blood on the white hands of Lady Macbeth.
My laugh is the scuttle of leaves on the sidewalk;
The weeds on your grandmother's grave are my hair.
My friends are the slime-trails that slugs leave behind them,
And I can freeze toads or melt stones with my stare.
My sigh is the hot wind that withers the foxglove;
My heart is the black rat that drowned in your well.
That dust layer under your bed is my dandruff;
The drain in your shower is ripe with my smell.
I might slip a fat spider into your slipper
Or give you an itch in a place you can't scratch.
While you're off at school, I leave lumps in your pillow
(In three or four days they'll be ready to hatch).
I chew on your boogers and old toenail clippings
At bedtime, when serpents and centipedes creep.
Next time you're alone in the darkness, remember:
My children are nightmares that poison your sleep.
The Boogeyman's Rhyme
Come back later today to learn about our contest for this month!
Exactly, Tex. Good show!
Don't forget to check out our July issue.