Feed

There’s a monster on Main street
Soft and without shape
His skin a mustard hue
With a sickly green stain

He smells of rotting duck meat
His mouth is kept agape
With rows of teeth that chew
Whatever they obtain

His three tongues drip and glisten
And reach out half a mile
His six eyes never close
His hair is stiff as wires

He has no ears to listen
To inform his toothy smile
But he has a wondrous nose
It smells fears and desires

We feed him three times a day
Clocks and coffee beans
Are crushed between his jaw
Gobbled with a belch and grin

When he needs fresher prey
When he grows loud and mean
We toss him red hearts raw
And hair and sheets of skin

I took my daughter to his lunch
At noon in the town square
She brought a fist of buttercups
And a doll she made last June

They disappeared with a crunch
She screamed it was unfair
I told her to keep her chin up
We would get a new one soon

I gave the monster three fingers
To buy the newest doll
With longer hair and brighter eyes
And a coat of rabbit fur

But my daughter’s sadness lingers
She is not enthralled
I suppose she has realized
That she’s lost what was hers

My fingers have grown back
The skin is fresh and tighter
But they feel disconnected
From my hands and pores

But all the monster knows is lack
And his teeth only get whiter
No matter what’s collected
He will always want more