Two Beams of Fragile Light

One says there are no monsters
under her bed
because there is no room
too many books.
She wants to stay at school
when I pick her up.

The other lunges
to latch on
when I hold him again
mouthing for comfort
after the substitute he is given
warmed in a crock-pot.

I say there are no monsters
anyway
but how can I keep holding
back invisible crowding?

We drive home stunned
to books under beds and
desperate feedings.
While another day dims
their fragile bodies are lifted
out of the bathtub.