are you afraid of the beast within you?
does he shamefully bow
his head in the light of
day? does he slip through the
cracks of the night?
i ask you, quietly,
if he is what lingers beneath
the glassy eyes,
the breath stale with liquor,
the surface conversations, or
the collection of bad choices
you keep in a bedside drawer,
you say, "yes, baby
all of the above."

i ask you for the beast's name,
you whisper
softly
longingly
'mama"