—for siah, my mother
praying to god
is how my mother
claims his ownership
no child
in monrovia
is too little
to tell his mother
god
is another woman’s
husband—
leonardo da vinci’s
last supper
plastic painting
hangs
above a borrowed
wooden crib
mosquitoes’ blood
spatters
in loud claps
of my mother’s palms
fictional seeds
of a father
in a child’s
head
bloom nothingness
and i envy
every child
in the neighbor-
hood
with a father
i am now
fluent
in that absence
fueling on
expired nestle nido
milk
would make anyone
loathe the story
of christ
feeding the five thousand
with the same prayers
i hear
my mother says
when pretending
i hear nothing
and know nothing
of memories
she grasps
like a wooden
door
holding new nails
palm-oiled lamp
near the door
burns
until the first sunlight
comes
squeezing
in the zigzag
of a keyhole
by Jeremy Teddy Karn
Jeremy Teddy Karn was born in Monrovia, Liberia. He received his MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He writes and teaches creative writing for a living. More of his writing and publications can be found on his website.
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