Four Poems
By Michael Sikkema
Ghost, a child in a shopping bag,
red wool
The function
of the mask is to expose.
Headset pinches
into antennae---circuit-board
The night guards lube up
the horses while the sergeant
counts nipple clamps
Conjugal trees
blossom in the doll factory
In the bottle gentians
in heart-shaped pills
Half-number half-ant-static,
he never gets
the letter
that says "look"
Humans are the smallest insects
Spray painted on the floorboards
A country song
"Brandy Has A Meth Lab"