©2020 by Canvas Literary Journal

Published by Cosmographia Books

Background art “Submerged” by Amelia Ao

Canvas logo by Ali Wrona

Want of Revelations

Annie Chen

Winter 2020

                                                                     I do not remember when it began

Where my tongue drowns in iron from your throat’s offer

of unfamiliar and over-practiced verses, your weathered

 

hymn is falling again, repeating Genesis not knowing

I can’t except pray for this circular worship grows

 

paralyzing when I am not patient enough a God to

daily crucify a sentimental son and raise another sun

 

to warm you, redundant, barren, kaleidoscope Mother

earth, where enlightenment withholds from dawning on

 

your memories, snaked ribbons weaving rose thorns fleeing

from your garden, I biannual to perennial, bleed hydration

 

fruitlessly shadow to your christening as fruit tree, only

bearing deserts to damn dessert to dust, my desiccation:

 

remembering who these branches bore before are not able

once I played Cain, my evenings spent exiled from eden to

 

send searching white doves incapable of surrender, be Moses

arms mopping the dripping deck of your empty hulled ark.

 

In Exodus, I keep trying to forget you cannot remember

                                                   For eternity seems something less bitter

                                                                      when the end is never the same.

Annie Chen is a full-time senioritis machine at South High School in Torrance, California. She has won two medals and several keys in the Scholastic Art and Writing awards and been recognized by the PTA Reflections contest. Her idea of a perfect day is cooking all types of ethnic foods while dancing to 70s/80s happy jams and or getting Uber-ed to different places by all her friends who can drive.