Portrait of a Monster

He cackles, throws his mouth open like a cave

two stalagmites catching the light,

four stalactites jaggering down

from the laughter den.

He grabs for me, those paws

every day more sure

less needing steadying.

He twists and giggles, looks askance,

tells me in no uncertain terms that I am

dada

goo goo

and heheheheh.

Should I be flattered?

My constrictor instincts surge,

I want to squeeze him

and swallow him whole

but the monster

is clever

and wiggles away,

blowing bubbles,

waving to himself

as if there were a procession

and he were king.