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Fish by Magdalawit Makonnen

You will soon cleave away

from your night like a fish,

in the direction of your father

who has eaten from grief,

who leapt inside his fish.

 

And you forget your mother blue

who feels in her kitchen,

who prays for you.

 

While you collect dust like an old

figurine;

your heart aching.

Magdalawit Makonnen is an Ethiopian-born writer residing in Los Angeles, CA. She received her English/Creative Writing BA from UCLA, and currently is working toward her Creative Writing MFA at Antioch University Los Angeles. Her pieces have appeared in Pyrta (India), African Writing Magazine (UK), The View From Here (UK), MiPOesias, Volt, and other publications.