by Jenn Ngeth
(This poem previously appeared in Arcturus literary journal.)
You take a light; that blistering flame
to the tip of my head—
the start to my demise.
The countless ashes of my kin succumb
to your prayers; sacrificed for the absence of holy statues—
mythology turned into worship.
As I’m propped in rice grains, burning,
in my soon-to-be coffin; I permeate into the air—
transpiring your wishes to made-up entities.
As if the windpipes in your esophagus
were created by gods
& not from the action of human fucking.
Jenn Ngeth is a graphic design student from Seattle, Washington. Growing up as a Khmer American woman, she uses poetry to examine and process the complexities of life.
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