These are early poems I write as a boy starting around age elven, then as a teenager in high school and during my first two years of college.

Huntress
by Michael R. Burch

after Baudelaire

Lynx-eyed, cat-like and cruel, you creep
across a crevice dropping deep
into a dark and doomed domain.
Your claws are sheathed. You smile, insane.
Rain falls upon your path, and pain
pours down. Your paws are pierced. You pause
and heed the oft-lamented laws

Run
Run as fast as you can
It’s coming for you
It can hear you crying
You’d better hide
You unlock the closet door, it creaks open
Safe
Still
Heart pounding
Tears falling
It enters the room
Breathe
            Breathe
                       Breathe
Its steps stop in front of the closet
The door handle jiggles and clicks
Shit
She opens the door, wooden spoon in hand