In Which A Childhood Fear Surfaces

It's taking me much courage e'en to look
Upon the photo I've put on this page;
Blame China Mieville for it; his new book
The Kraken, just so happened to engage
Me quickly in a quest again to see
What's haunted me since childhood. Lo! Behold:
Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni
The merest thought makes my blood run so cold,
I'm eight again, in Wyoming, landlocked
But still quite sure this monster lurked below
My bedclothes, clacking beak, thoroughly stocked
With tentacles and after me. I know:
'Twas silly of me, out here, to believe
A giant squid could get me of an eve.

Bonus Bonus Sonnet Dare: Of Squids And Beer (And Skids And Cheer?)

Another sonnet dare has come my way,
Inspired in part by some strange public art
Depicting a rare creature that, I'd say
Shows taste and style and signs that it is smart:
The Pabst Blue Ribbon Squid you may see here.
Now, I'm not sure just what it is he seeks:
To cop a cheap feel or a sip of beer,
But it's the oddest thing I've seen in weeks,
And worthy of some poetry of sorts.
Called "I Am Pabst" this mural may not be
An image of what we call indoor sports
Or what looks like some bestality,
But then again it might. Let each decide.
Assasin Grrl may judge while I go hide.