She turns on lights
At night to keep
The spirits contained
Under the bed,
God-like light
That keeps her safe
When she’s stopped
Being able to
Protect herself,
She needs others
She brings
within her circle
keeping them close
for when the bed shakes
or the closed door opens,
the man with the badge
to whom she has
given on those
sacred documents,
proving once and for all
the existence of
Bigfoot she insists
Is stalking her,
Such a fearful life
She leads,
Wasting electric
To keep light on,
When she already
Knows there is
Nothing under
The bed
But dust.
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