Monkey Bones

Monkey Bones.
That's what authorities say was found
inside the home of Professor Scarlatti,
the late Professor, who earlier that day
suffered a heart attack behind the wheel
of his ancient Mercedes.
The Professor was the author
of such controversial books
as "Dark Secrets of Africa"
and "Black Lusts of Atlantis."



Monkey Bones
Startling and inexplicable discovery,
not even the Professor's reputation
for eccentricity could account for it:
Scattered throughout the shabby ruins
of a once great mansion
Monkey Bones.

Monkey Bones.
Scattered here, scattered there:
small, small Monkey Bones.
skeletons in miniature,
some intact, some disarticulated.
Monkey Bones all,
(and all deformed...)
Small delicate skeletons
of Monkey Bones.

"Damn, looks like
Monkey Bones to me,"
said one officer to the other.
"Stop monkey-ing around,"
growled the Sergeant. "This is
serious monkey business.
He must have collected bones
for years...maybe decades..."


Monkey Bones.
They found them in the attic
They found them in the closet
They found them in the kitchen
Living room, bedroom, bath.
on chairs, tables and the stairs.
Monkey bones.
Incredulous faces turned
to incredulous faces
and asked Why?
"But where did the bones
come from...and
look at all these crazy plants.
Everywhere!"
said a cop. "It's
like a jungle here...
and the humidity!"

And they dutifully investigated
the entire deteriorating mansion
and only after the last rooms had been searched
and all nooks and crannies exposed,
did they unbolt the numerous heavy bolts
on the last remaining door,
a massive reinforced thing
leading to a darkened cellar.
They were opening it slowly,
fumbling with their flashlights,
when something large
and monstrous,
raging and jet black,
rushed into the light screaming...

Four hundred pounds of reeking fur,
rotting fangs and steel-like muscle
fell on the nearest officer...
then the Sergeant...
and then quickly moved on...
tearing at soft unprotected throats,
gouging out horror-widened eyes,
ripping off limbs
like an angry child
pulling at fly wings,
all the while
howling in mad anguish
and unspeakable grief.

It was a tragic misunderstanding
with horrific consequences
born of Chance and Ignorance:
All had thought the old boy a bachelor.


(Dedicated to
the late Arthur Jermyn and his Family).