The Grassman
By Bryanna Licciardi
“The Grassman (also known as the Ohio Grassman, Kenmore Grassman or Orange Eyes) is a tall, bipedal hominid that stalks the woods of Ohio.”
– Criptid Wiki
Before it killed my husband with me watching from the window,
too stunned to really comprehend this blood-spattering, fur-rotted mass
that ripped his arm off in one roaring tug. After, I heaved into the sink.
Before my husband stepped outside to look for trouble,
called over his shoulder to grab his rifle, I can see something
big as a door, and I yelled for him to get it himself.
Before rocks thrown from the dark hit our kitchen window
so hard it almost splintered the pane
and the sharpness of noise
made me drop the glass I was washing.
Before those glowing, tangerine eyes caught me
through the window, and I said, Hey, I think I see candles.
Before we dismissed it because who lurks in yards with candles?
Before I turned the sink off because I swore I could hear twig snaps
and guttural yowls—Is it a bear?—
and my husband rolled his eyes.
Before I was passing a dish for him to dry,
feeling slightly too full from supper
and annoyed he didn’t offer to do them himself
since I did all the cooking.
Right before my other hand found a bread knife
beneath the soapy water
and gripped it like an epiphany,
turned to him with anticipatory glee
of his shock. Before my husband would die,
I was thinking to myself
death isn’t always the end,
not if a relationship is really strong.
