Mallum Mallum
A bitch with whom you do not fuck
I was not born a witch but made one
Through repetition. Ensorcelled
By gross fascination; obsessed with derision
They took my being and labeled it villian.
* * *
My first taste of blood came
In shades of winter white. A toboggan
That knew how to fly before I ever did.
Falling; the smell of copper; a red rorschach.
Fluids have a magic in them. I learned
To love an elixir that took me
Away; how, kneeling,
I worshipped my own fluids back.
I run through brambles;
Shy from the soft touch.
Tie me down; with velour fingers
Caress me. See how I shudder.
* * *
My desire is gnathic — gorge yourself
On my flesh. Know my sin
So I
May know yours.
It’s a serpentine gift
This intimacy and God
Wasn’t ready for us
To see his flaws.
Imbued with understanding
We call it mallum.
Latin for apple;
Latin for bad.
* * *
I’d scissor apart the tapestry of fate
For I cannot abide
What ignores the thread
For the sake of the weave.
But most take a broader view.
So we cluster; twist ‘round each other;
Multiply our strength into a cord
That can’t be cut. Can’t be ignored.
And see how they claim “words have meaning”
Forcing them to call me a man
Only then to name walleye pickerel
In naked hypocrisy.
* * *
I was not born a witch but made one
Through repetition. Let them call me
Evil once more
And witness the power they give.
body of stone is out of print from The Blasted Tree Store
Featured by The Blasted Tree: October 26, 2021
Helen Robertson
Contributing Author
body of stone by Helen Robertson is a Blasted Tree original collection of poetry.
ISBN [Digital]: 978-1-987906-76-9
Cover Design by Kyle Flemmer