by Robert Emmett
mal
you speak
bad juju
follows you
male addiction
skull and
geronimo’s bones
ground to powder
up your nose
wired to brain pan
flashing male violence
heat seeking missile
straight to the baby’s heart
rub the blood in
scoop the blood out
now you drink your fill
malice
in your chalice
every lip it touches
burns with deceit
your tongue’s edict
no good valence
topsy-turvy
every word
a kiss of death
hovers near your ear
whispers
sand in your throat
magnetic wires
across your forehead
draw metallic shards
to a point
between your eyes
veins catch in
all your teeth
mal odor
your fly-blown breath
snuffs
the only candle
Robert Emmett finds some of these words flying through the air, caught in the branches of trees or among the beach stones of Michigan, where they may have a life of their own. He's just borrowing them for now.
