jaiden thompson

MY MOTHER TELLS ME I AM JESUS

Well, not really. See, we’re in the car

after our monthly church visit. I’m tired

of God & she’s tired of everything else.

Softly, I ask her who Jesus is ‘cause

that rickety priest said “He is among

us now”, but it ain’t been on the news

or nothin’ so where is he? Who is he?

& she only says, “Well, ya see, anyone

could be Jesus. Me. You” & I think,

it ain’t her because she is a woman,

right? A mother. Although religion is

a synonym for motherhood, it don’t like

the title. & Dad would be a lone god,

why share with the Holy Spirit or Son?

But I am no woman yet, only a child

& I can be a Son, tag along with a good

father & some spirit (I prefer it, actually;

who says monotheism must be lonely?).

So, me. Yes, it could be me. Yes but,

see, I don’t want to be Jesus. I don’t

even believe in me yet & I ain’t sure

I want to. He’s creepy & ugly & we eat

Him. Everytime we go to church we

eat Him & yeah, He told us to, but

how could He want it? How could I

want it? If I am Jesus & you are all

to divide my body to consume for

divine ritual, I won’t let myself

dissolve in your belly. You’ll

throw me up, hear that? Find

some real bread for now. Please.

I ain’t ready yet. Hey, God. You,

I’m talking to you. Is cannibalism

not a sin if you’re given consent?

Jaiden Thompson (they/them) is a young writer walking the line between poetic genius and foolery. They have work published or forthcoming in COUNTERCLOCK, Stone of Madness, Lumiere Review and perhappened, among others. They are also an editor for Interstellar Literary Review. Learn more about them here: https://jaidenthompson.carrd.co/.