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If I were a weapon, I’d be a Molotov

Cocktail, poised in the hand of a revolutionary.

Cheap and easy to make, I’d explode once,

sacrificing the container to set the known

world ablaze. And if I were a potion, I’d

be truth serum, and you’d tell me secrets

that you had concealed even from yourself.

I’d infect your blood with the promise

of liberation. And if I were a plant, I’d be

Poison Hemlock streaked with purple

and red. Who knows? Maybe you’d pick

me, mistaking me for something harmless.

 

 

 

Michelle Brooks has published a collection of poetry, Make Yourself Small (Backwaters Press), and a novella, Dead Girl, Live Boy (Storylandia Press). A native Texan, she has spent much of her adult life in Detroit, her favorite city.

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