It didn’t eat her right away
The monster that ate my mommy
It lived with her for a long time
Taking a small piece now and then
She never saw it but I did
A smoke creature floating behind
With claws and fangs but made of air
Lurking with shadows and feeding
I warned her – she never listened
I cried when the monster ate her
I thought it would come for me next
It vanished like steam with a grin
I tell people the story of
The monster that ate my mommy
They don’t believe in scary things
Some of them have their own monsters
The black smoke waiting to eat them
Will I see mine if I get one
Do I have one eating me now
The same one that ate my mommy
Previously unpublished.
James Pack 