In My House We Pray
by Ayoung Kim
Handed down from God to grandmother we pray,
Before meals, bedtime, Easter Service get on your knees pray,
In Korean, in English, in tongues, in hymns, yes to Thee pray,
My dad—fingers loose like yarn threads, eyes open blink-blink he pray,
My mom—hands clenched like a fist in the night, eyes sealed she pray,
Begged for friends for love for grades for toys for boys me pray,
My mom dragged us five kids to her bed in the dawn, too dark to see, pray,
In a rainy park walking my dogs, stop to smell wetness, to a tree pray,
Years I closed to God to find out what happened if I stopped cold turkey pray,
I tested God denounced God didn’t believe God begged God—set me free pray,
God told me I don’t have to go to church or read the Bible—just Be Pray.
Nighttime Performer
a mujer mexicana walking the streets at night with a rolled-up piece of paper like a cigarette between her index and middle finger
pretending to speak Spanish high stepping skirt snapping whirling like a flamenco dancer she was exotic she was fierce she sashayed like her hips had a bad attitude
took a drag on her cigarette and got into an argument with her husband stabbing him with her index finger he begged for forgiveness begged her to take him back
Nunca!
juiced with adrenaline and power she stomped under streetlights into oncoming headlights strangers were amazed to spot a beautiful famous telenovela star in the suburbs
she’s so down to earth she’s just like us
Raza!
she strolled down darkened alleys past muted homes shadowy branches swayed above like an adoring audience
a dog barked and she spun around and blew it a kiss—her number one fan— it landed on his nose a set of lips painted in Reckless Red
arms raised to the black sky to the glowing moon cigarette stuck in the corner of her mouth she owned it all the bushes the trees the cul-de-sac the neighbors the wind the stars
she was ten going on twenty going to be a star
they wanted her heart and she gave them a nighttime performance she twirled she clapped she snapped then bowed accepted a bouquet of roses
Mi corazon!
she crept into the house (careful don’t wake umma or appa!) she snuck into her room, wiped her lips with tissue, tossed the cigarette and lay in bed staring at the tree branches billowing outside her window begging for an encore.
tomorrow night, she promised, tomorrow night.
BIO
Ayoung Kim is a writer and artist. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Good Life Review, The Manifest Station, Khora, Defenestration Humor Magazine, and Best Travelers’ Tales, among others. She is originally from San Francisco.
