"Power of Eight"
from Arbor Vitae 3.2
by R. Virgil Ellis
When I had the power of eight brother, and you only four, playing in the kitchen with an old bottle, some sugar, water, vegetable dye, we got a strange brew that was no color we knew. After I got you to sip I invoked my power to read. Drink this and you will die, I made the bottle say, watching your face sag and crumple. Poison, I say, the thrill rising up my throat, goose-bumps running down my spine, my arms that already reach to you, it’s pretend, it won’t hurt you, I say, knowing something spread in me, not knowing eight times eight could be sixty-four, and more, and more.