The Alien
I woke and saw it there above my bed,
A shocking thing to look up to. At first
It frightened—did a number on my head.
Because of horror films, it wasn’t worst
Of those I’ve seen, but, hey, it loomed obscene
There, almost scaly, dried out looking, vile
In paleness, a mispronounced Frankenstein
Perhaps. I felt an instant rise of bile
And loathing but was hypnotized by dread
And paralyzed by nausea. I came
Around to fuller consciousness. Instead
I woke and figured out, much to my shame,
That it was nothing that could really harm
Me. It turned out to be my old guy arm.