Poetry Sunday

Wes Craven, the director of such frightening films as "Nightmare on Elm Street," "Scream," and "The Last House on the Left," died this past week. In his memory, I thought this week I'd feature this poem that seemed appropriate ...

Scary Movies

by Kim Addonizio

Today the cloud shapes are terrifying,
and I keep expecting some enormous
black-and-white B-movie Cyclops
to appear at the edge of the horizon,

to come striding over the ocean
and drag me from my kitchen
to the deep cave that flickered
into my young brain one Saturday

at the Baronet Theater where I sat helpless
between my older brothers, pumped up
on candy and horror—that cave,
the litter of human bones

gnawed on and flung toward the entrance,
I can smell their stench as clearly
as the bacon fat from breakfast. This
is how it feels to lose it—

not sanity, I mean, but whatever it is
that helps you get up in the morning
and actually leave the house
on those days when it seems like death

in his brown uniform
is cruising his panel truck
of packages through your neighborhood.
I think of a friend's voice

and the mail still arriving,
and I feel as afraid as I was
after all those vampire movies
when I'd come home and lie awake

all night, rigid in my bed,
unable to get up
even to pee because the undead
were waiting underneath it;

if I so much as struck a bare
foot out there in the unprotected air
they'd grab me by the ankle and pull me
under. And my parents said there was

nothing there, when I was older
I would know better, and now
they're dead, and I'm older,
and I know better.

on her answering machine—
Hi, I'm not here—
the morning of her funeral,
the calls filling up the tape

Wes Craven is gone, but there are other directors still churning out scary movies. For my part, I'm waiting to see Guillermo del Toro's Crimson Peak when it's released next month ... the trailers alone have scared me poopless.

Have a good day, and enjoy the rest of your Labor Day weekend. Tomorrow we'll have more thoughts related to the holiday - come back then.

Bilbo