By: Shawn Anto
rice-white sinister grin
look at my face, I am not entirely disrupted
I resist the process.
God could not carve beauty out of the tree
we planted our hopes, root down, my mother
wanted us to have a better life
do not eat the apple, she says
but I need nourishment
did we leave for the better was it better?
I suspect treachery, I crawl around forever
through the seasons, I think and think
a looped-memory of rivers I wasn’t allowed to go in.
I keep drowning in my dreams.
I cut the tree down
throw the branches into the water
watch them float away from me
I carve an arrow from the branch I left
stick, stuck in the dirt, I exist in this wet blur
I draw my face in the mud, then my mother’s
then my father’s, then my brother’s
until the rain comes.
Shawn Anto is from Delano, California. He’s originally from Kerala, India. He received his B.A. in English & Theatre at CSU Bakersfield. His writing has been featured or are forthcoming in Reed Magazine, O:JA&L, Mojave Heart Review, and elsewhere.