Parable
Rent from DeepDyve- Parable
God as a mother: He raises usuntil we're ready and then
lets us alone. Or He warns us to shy away,to run from His house. Or once whileHe's washing dishes after another fight,
we, only 12 years old at the time,threaten that we're leaving as soon aswe turn 18. We're out-of-here we say—
the words all scrunched together likeone big smack in His face. Even thoughit wasn't His fault. When He dies, we mourn
Him. We worry with where to toss the ashes,argue about where the ashes are insidethe house, roll our eyes that our sister
certainly lost them. We planned to makeamulets or charms and slide them downchains that rest above our hearts or on our chests
at least. Now and again, our minds wander.We muse at how we exited His Body. His bellymade into a cat's mouth. Naval/nose. Dimpled scar
a philtrum overtop a split lip. Our faces hangdog,our names the first survivors on His death notice. [End Page 128]
Jennie Malboeuf is a native of Kentucky. Her poems are found in Virginia Quarterly Review, FIELD, the Hollins Critic, AGNI, Epoch, the Collagist, Image, Memorious, ZYZZYVA, and Best New Poets. She teaches writing at Guilford College in North Carolina.
