Childish Misconceptions about the Nature of Fear (poem)

It’s not the alien in the horror flick
baring the dripping icicles
of its fangs

but the call from family
that wakes you
from a deep sleep
in the middle of the night—

not the clown doll with the grin

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and the bloodied kitchen knife
over its head

but the frozen stillness
when you hear the cry
from the next room,
sounding not even human—

not the angry ghost
shimmering by the fireplace
mouthing its silent warning

but when the doctor sits down
with no expression
looking over lab results or an MRI
and falters
before giving the prognosis.

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