Go Look in the Closet, My Son Said | Poetry

Michael Bazzett

and I did and it was there, hunched beneath the coats, covered in hair, doing its best to look inconspicuous and it did indeed smell a bit like woodsmoke and iron, and I did see something that looked a bit like a talon draw closer into its body before melting away into the shagginess in much the same way the markings of a snake might simmer down into a pile...