Or as every other late 80s action hero
my mother succesfully jumping off of a skyscraper
onto another skyscraper my mother hunting the
Predator with a cigar lodged in her mouth
my mother saying sonofabitch in the coolest
way imaginable my mother ripping a mask off
to reveal she is not in fact the president of the United
States but that she is in fact my mother
my mother somehow knowing how to pilot
a helicopter my mother pulling her abusive
father out of a bath tub my mother slamming
her fist down on the table during an arm
wrestling tournament my mother registering
her hands as lethal weapons my mother pleading
with her mother to leave before things got dangerous
my mother watching things get dangerous
my mother holding the green wire and the blue
wire and figuring out which wire to cut
my mother covered in her mother’s blood
my mother my mother my god my mother
walking away from a burning
car my mother an action hero
that self-destructs and yet she’s still
my mother sitting in front of a villain
calming explaining to him that death
is almost here without sharks without
bombs. My mother pale as the moonlight
my mother watching him
die slowly, in explosive peace
and immeasurable quiet.
—Luisa Muradyan
Luisa Muradyan is the author of American Radiance and the winner of the 2017 Prairie Schooner Book Prize.
