Political Poem For Monster Movie Fans

That’s one tall reptile
standing between us
and the outside.
If we want out,
we’re going to have to walk
under the reptile’s belly
to reach the road out of town.
It’s going to smell under there.
It’s going to be dark.
We’re going to have to make the crossing
in fear of him dropping lazily down
to crush us,
or of him deciding to wheel about
and lap us into his mouth.
We’re going to have to walk,
not run, for fear of him feeling us
galloping through.  
He’s so big, swollen,
maybe venomous though
he doesn’t need poison to take us;
our biggest threat may be
that he won’t even know we’re there
and our demise will be accidental,
a side effect of him shifting his bulk.
Pointless, unremarked deaths.
With the case laid out like that
the possibility
of us getting through
shrinks to not a prayer in this hell —

but then,
this is hell,
already.  And 
it’s not stopped us from prayer —

who’s with me?