Today's poem is by George Franklin

Real Monsters
       

In Forbidden Planet, the monster
Was Walter Pidgeon's Freudian id,
A less-eloquent Prospero bent
On attacking those space sailors who'd
Take his daughter back to Earth. It was
Invisible, as the scariest
Terrors sometimes are. My beloved
Is mine as rooms are empty, Auden
Might have written but didn't. The worst
Monsters take the form of absence. In
Fritz Lang's M, the child's ball rolls away,
Each black-and-white bounce more horrible
Than the last. By contrast, Frankenstein's
Creature is touchingly innocent.
Fleeing from his own ugliness, he
Accidentally commits his crimes.
He inspires pity but also, like
His creator, we wish him elsewhere.
Real monsters are deliberately
Evil, whether dressed as white-faced clowns
Or smiling presidents with cufflinks
And cologne—or perhaps appearing
As normal folks, not too young or old,
The man who trims his hedge on weekends,
The wife with chocolate chip cookies,
Photographed in front of a garage,
Waving to the camera and by
Extension us, the helpless viewers:
Welcome! Come in. Please stay for dinner.

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Copyright © 2023 George Franklin All rights reserved
from Remote Cities
Sheila-Na-Gig Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission