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/.