The Slender Man

I see him now, that shape in the half-distance
like an upper case letter of the alphabet
that they would not teach you -

though children, I struggle to comprehend
all your fear and fuss,
since Slender Man follows some of us
all day: he's there when we ride the bus,
or when when we walk the long way through the park,
and even when we get the window seat
at the cafe. Certainly, I concede
that there isn't very much for him to do
when the scenery is real
and there's no live feed
for him to fade to fizzy static grey,
and that it is possible for you
to spend your whole life reminding yourself
to look away; but then again,
what a world there is to look away at:

that grey uneven mountain,
that slender cat,
that sleeping stone,
that crooked fountain,
that baby's splotchy cheeks,
those dancers walking home,
that fat man who flicks his right hand
as he speaks.