The author of this poem entered a contest given only the accompanying picture, “Muse” by Laura Christensen.

I’m not done saying it. What’s the obsession with poetry that doesn’t rhyme?

I shall digress no further.

I don’t drink alcohol and never have. But I do know how it feels to be “half underwater” with “a monster trying to make its way to the surface.”

Can I say that? Am I allowed to draw comparisons?

Are we not all just a baby step away from destruction?

And is not destruction debatable?

Ah. There’s always a monster lurking. It doesn’t always get pushed down.