Monsters
for the art Jimi Hendrix by Moëbius
Orange clouds, like mountains, burn
under the weight of the falling sun,
two rocks jut from the green ocean
where sharks swarm
I watch a pelican as large
as a pterodactyl fly the sage home
A man wears
a robe, the symbol
of his power
his face broad, dark
his eyes free to bore
to memorize
his hands a vise
around the woman,
green from the ocean
she is out cold
Beams of black
form a halo of darkness
his intent unknown
but I fear
for the woman
at the hands of a man
so enthralled
by her architecture. I cannot help
but think that she
is the victim
that she is not the monster
we are told she is
no, she tries to protect
herself
her ocean so green
perhaps it is dying
she may be the last
the only
and this man is the one to take
her, to take the ocean
to set mountains ablaze
perhaps the sage
and his pelican-dactyl
stay away from the world
soaring above to remain
untouched and unsullied
by mundane concerns
perhaps the man is the monster
or the sage
or the monster is inside
ready to take
when presented with such
succulent
verdant beauty
About the Author: K. Andrew Turner writes queer, literary, and speculative prose and poetry. In 2013, he founded East Jasmine Review—an electronic literary journal. He was a semifinalist for the 2016 Luminaire Award. Heart, Mind, Blood, Skin is now available from Finishing Line Press. Read more at: http://www.kandrewturner.com
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