Want of Revelations
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.