Melissa Prunty Kemp

Poison is a trauma path in the brain
that routes continuous movement
through the same treacherous loop.
 
Along gyrus, into sulcus, pictures
of heroic extortions, humans
and political positions for sale.
 
Our master is a cat with nine lives,
a merry trickster, teflon emperor
and we want to be just like him.
 
We want the perks, executive
directorships, staffs, public speaking
engagements, an adoring public herd
 
to fawn over us, never suspecting
a mistress, two children
in a Vine City two-bedroom,
 
or that the new Caddie in
the garage wasn’t a simple trade
but a sweetener, a little license,
 
no one will notice a few thousand
dollars shell-gamed to pay
for the sun-room extension
 
or the vacation to France,
no one will notice.