OH YOU TRIED TO GET ME. But National Poetry Month goes on. In the hospital last night, I read The Man Suit by Zachary Schomburg. FOUR YEARS IT TOOK ME WHY? I open up and the first poem goes uggggggggggggghhhhh here's something. I was churning inside and I churned inside. I re-read this first poem then I laid the bed back and fell asleep finally.
The Monster Hour
by Zachary Schomburg
On the Monster Hour, there was this monster that used to come out and try to kill everybody in the audience. No one expected it, not even the producers who were told by the monster he would play a few blues tunes on the piano. The monster apologized after each show and asked for another chance. I'm planning on telling a few jokes this time he would say. But time after time he'd break his word and try to kill everybody. The producers finally replaced him with a gorilla in people clothes that came out and played a Wurlitzer, but they never changed the name of the show. It was always the Monster Hour. I don't think anybody understood then what a monster really was.