Monosyllabic Words
by Paul Sohar
they are the pits in the lush flesh of language
the hard-bitten monosyllabic words
good black love death crib
the man in the street spits them out with gusto
but lawyers and theologians carefully avoid them
lest they choke on them or get lost in the street
white sky sex bad life
slip past the tongue before it can savor them
before it can attach a song to them
red bold blood fear gay
flash by before the teeth can forge them into a chain
to capture that inner monster
and lead it out on the page without taming it
flesh hot flesh cold flesh sick flesh dead
monosyllabic words are only there if they march
in a row and row after row pounding the ground
shouting that the monster is awake