The Monster's Toybox

The stuffies aren’t asked how they feelabout the state of the playroom, the waythey’re tossed, or disemboweled of stuffing;to them, the world is a ballin the clutches of a monster.It noses the sphere, wanting a playmatewhen ruinous diversion tempts–and to burn down the playgroundwhen its interest is lost.The world is a ballin the clutches of a monster,a sea leviathan we thought we could trainlike a seal, barking for claps,easily accepting of lordship over a small pool,and meagerly doled out fish, contentwith the cheering audience; the mythof its origin lost to itlike the little girl’s golden balltumbled down a wellwaiting for a not-yet-named-monsterfirst, to rescue her precious toyand then to be made man againafter it had grown accustomedto having such power, demandingkisses in exchange for simple human kindness,treating it like some children’s game.Lynne Sargent is a Hamilton-based queer writer, aerialist, and holds a Ph.D in Applied Philosophy. They are the poetry editor at Utopia…