Human Monsters by Elisabeth Horan

​Human monsters

Get.   Back.   In the Cart.   Now.
No toys today - you blew it...
Nope, you didn’t listen.
I said, get back in the cart, now.

              Not my Problem

Reads her t-shirt, she flicks her smoke to the ground.
Steps on it like an ant - her shoe kills things.

Whose problem then:
yours… ours?
Not us, then whose -

The small children await her in the car.
They know to sit, quietly, for her.

               Suddenly, their problem.

I’ve never bought a problem,
I thought: they aren’t for sale.

Not commodities, I supposed;
abstract as the cliche mote -
can’t grab what floats in air

Can’t trap ignorance
Can’t snatch neglect

               Can’t say:

“Hey, are you having a bad day?”

Please don't yell at your kid today -
Look at him crying,
don’t be mean
he is only 2 or 3
you are seventeen or thirty-seven or seventy.

Or anywhere in between.

                Or, can I Say:

It’s ok, I know your dad hit you too.

Scared you silly.
Like you deserved.
Locked you in your room.
Hated your dreams;
your dumb head.
That smile on your face:
His biggest mistake

There, there -
his parents beat him too.
He paid for their problem, too -

These things I can’t undo
but this gift I can give to you -

               I’ll tell you I care about you

Your kids
can be loved
by you too.

Look now -
at how I’m
showing you.

               I take one problem from you.

​
                                                       
Image - Johnny Silvercloud

Bio: Elisabeth is a mom of two young boys living in Vermont writing her heart out, riding her horses and hanging on for dear life. She loves it when she gets the feeling that a poem just plain worked. It is as exciting as galloping on a horse. She hopes that her words can help others feel better about themselves. She knows reading inspiring poetry has helped keep her swimming above the waves.

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