Dreaming Of The Bible Belt

Occasionally something surfaces,
From the depths of my memory sea,
Like the beast from fifty thousand fathoms,
An ugly and awkward creature,
Bursting from the fetid water where it has languished,
So scarred, scary and gruesome.

Is it a true recollection of fact?
Should I ignore it or react?
It seems like a vague dream segment,
Torn from the subconscious of an imaginative infant,
But is it?

The memory monster looks like this:

A small boy is trapped in a bedroom,
Desperately trying to keep the bed between himself,
And his assailant,
Who dangles a leather belt dramatically,
And hisses threats and perverse promises,
Of painful disfigurement.

'Jesus won't let this happen, Jesus won't let this happen',
Is the boy's talismanic mantra,
As he looks up at the fevered fanatic,
And finds the face of his father.