When it comes to bonsai trees they are
planted off-center in their pots,
creating space for God to walk in.
When it comes to eldest daughters they are
born off-center in their homes,
creating space for strife to unfold.
Sometimes it’s fine, and we can
enjoy a pleasant night of TV
whirring (Bobby Flay is on tonight)
and crickets chirping outside
of windows, but other times it’s difficult,
which is where I come in.
Parenting the parents leaves
a weird taste in your mouth.
They’re yelling like children and
I’m mediating.
I’m taking all the
hate in one hand and trying
to spark love between
my fingers in the other,
a little fire in a bitter blizzard.
Meet me in the middle, I beg.
The exact middle where God
has space to walk in.
My mom mutters, “fucking bitch,”
and shuffles away. My dad
scoffs and returns his attention
to the TV, where Bobby Flay
wins another competition.
I wish I could prune them like
you prune a bonsai,
clipping off the little ticks that
ignite such misplaced rage.
Maybe that’s what God is for,
if you make a space big enough
to walk in. Fill that space with
hate and God will
look for another tree.
Phoebe Nerem (she/they) is a visual artist and writer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and is studying Art, Media, and Design at DePaul University in Chicago. They have been writing and creating artwork ever since they can remember and explores themes of romance, spirituality, and how their personal experiences reflect the world as a whole. They have been published in the Orange Couch Literary Magazine, Crook and Folly, and Emotional Alchemy.