Four of Pentacles (reversed)

By Robert Beveridge

--

The monster always lurks in the background,

of course; if you see it, you don’t leave the bedroom

alive. Its talons form the shape of presents,

wrapped in red, tied with five ribbons

sharp enough to take your fingers

before you even know you were shaking hands.

Some of us, to our credit, turn away, walk as far

and as fast as we can, family in tow.

We know without the need to look

the rebellious teen is keyed up, crouched

in the perfect tuck, pupils fixed

on something behind the dark, dangerous.

Sometimes we feel a little tug, realize too late

our fingers were intertwined.