he wasn’t built with green skin 

bolted temples in a square head 

some monstrous urge to kill 

                           you knew this going in 

opening his eyes unwanted 

skin stretched and crudely stitched 

over bones too big for him 

                             i watched you imagine it 

cast off to villagers terrified 

he would surely destroy them 

unless they got to him first 

                             injustice not lost on you 

weary in abandoned ice caves 

so hungry for companionship 

even his own name escaped him 

                            this hurt you the most 

                            it’s what crushes me too 

he only desired soft good 

night kisses from lips wet with 

ocean waves sweet as birdsong 

                             he thought words could save him 

which is what i often say to you 

although it sounds ludicrous 

these days when breathing is hard 

                          someone should have wanted him 

how does a person create another 

without certainty they can hold them 

tighter when lightning lashes the dark 

                            he wasn’t even the real monster 

just a newborn person shoved to a world 

incapable of knowing his fingers could 

curl so naturally around another hand