The Beast of Bellingham

I watch you in your underwear
beget the beast of bellingham.
You carve her such a tired stare
no timid eyes, a sunken glare
that cry, "I AM, AND ALWAYS AM
WHAT BLOWS THE WIND IN BELLINGHAM."
Outside you hear her rumbling
the treetops gust and groan;
"We are alive tonight to sing
the beast she's finally home!"
The door-frame creaks, you mark and streak
her face appears at last.
She croons, "I AM AND ALWAYS AM
WHAT TOWERS OVER BELLINGHAM."
the beast, by God! she's vast.