burned letter to birth mother: bedtime storytime 2

I see white yellow teeth bared
Red rimmed eyes, a red tongue lolling.
There’s a monster at the end of this poem.

When her head droops, I steal a sip,
Turn my eye red my eye red my tongue red,
In a mirror I see red marks on my white teeth.

She slurs. I fetch another boxed wine from her closet.
Blood flushes my cheeks numb to pinches.
There’s a monster at the end of this poem.

She demands I correct my childish behavior,
In the near future. Resolves not to raise a devil.
I peer through the tears trapped in my eye & notice

Her body folds over itself. From her mouth,
a light red puddle of spittle wets the pages of
Another Monster at the End of This Book.

On nights she prowls the living room, I sentry
In her shadow. Bright eyes, gleaming teeth,
Reddened. My mother whimpers wildly.
I feast on my own heart.

Dillon Thomas Jones is a writer living in Pittsburgh, PA. He holds a BA in English (Creative Writing) from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and is an MFA in Creative Writing candidate at the University of Pittsburgh. He writes poetry, fiction, and cultural criticism about television, film, and books. He is currently at work on a memoir about growing up the adopted and black only son of a white single mother in Omaha, NE. Contact him at dillon.jones6@gmail.com

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