Monsters Under the Bed

Poem by Carmen Tu Art by Lyan Abdul

I thought that the fl ashlight wasn’t bright enough, that they wouldn’t fi nd anything, again. I worried that they’d walk out with a smile, leaving me to fend for myself — Th ere’s nothing there. I wonder if they ever believed me: the bumps that startle me awake, the shakes that throw me to the fl oor, the bruises that mark me; Monsters as real as the pulse hidden beneath my skin — Th ere’s nothing there. I worried that the machine wasn’t strong enough, that they wouldn’t fi nd anything, again.

I wonder if they ever believed me: the bumps, the shakes, the bruises; Warnings as real as colours in a microscope — Th ere’s nothing there. But Nothing grows under my bed. Nothing thrives in the darkness. I have Nothing in me, Nothing that I can show you to prove that I have Nothing worth saving. Th ey let me sleep with Nothing to worry about. Nothing under— Th ere, there, Th ere’s nothing there.

About the Author: Carmen Tu is a PhD student studying the psychology of narrative and storytelling in the NeuroArts Lab at McMaster University. She fi nds comfort in spending time alone in public spaces where she can disappear and watch peoples stories unfold.