The Induction
Come into my
>gingerbread house
>cave
>arms
>laboratory
>kitchen with floating island
>terrorist cell for two
Make yourself at home in my
>cauldron
>iron grip
>guillotine
>analyst’s couch
> luxurious garden filled with bursting berries
Feel yourself relax
> with my eyes on yours
> watching every move you make
Feel my
>hands
>old soft hands
>new hands of fibreglass, wire and silicone
>irreparable damage
When you want to leave, do it through the
>winding boreen
> trap door
>lakes of red wine
When you leave I promise you will be
>cold to frozen
>stuffed to the gills and stocious
>glowing with good health
>made up with flowers and herbs in a state of pure relaxation
>prepared for the next life
Don’t touch the
>heart
>oven
>antimony
>hermetic chamber where we keep the heart and hold it up for ceremony, weddings and christenings only
Or we can come to a moment where it is inevitable mouth to tail
<one cannot help but swallow the other>
Neasa Malone was born in Dublin and studied at NUI Maynooth and University College London. She has worked in libraries and museums in Dublin and Oxford. She now lives in Highgate, north London, and is working on a collection of short stories and a novel. She tweets intermittently at @neasaml.