cellar stairs

Have you written any poems, painted any pictures?

Walked upon the Moon and noted its odd mixtures

Of the deadly lack of air and the bleakness of terrain

That would surely scare the hell from any capable sane brain?

There are things in dark corners in my cellar late at night

Where the spiders and the mice persist that I can’t get right

Or understand. It speaks in squeaks and mutters, growls strange.

And when moonlight hits that very spot behind the kitchen range

I dare not look too close to see if things I see are there.

It’s rather large with glowing eyes and ragged twisty hair.

I get the oddest feeling it came down from the Moon.

Perhaps it ate an astronaut and found it quite delicious.

And now, beneath my cellar stairs, it sounds rather vicious.

A week ago our old cat strangely disappeared.

Perhaps it tasted astronautical. It’s something I have feared.

The government has warned us of foreigners and strangers.

Perhaps I’ll notify the CIA, maybe the Texas Rangers.

They should certainly be warned and made fully aware

Of the horrid thing that lurks and growls beneath my basement stair.



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