effigy
forget his body.
remember your own.
your wrists engulfed
in his as he snatches
you from living
room to kitchen. next time
do as i say. and you do
for years. you tuck
his words underneath
your tongue when you
meet her. and you
train your lips to
mouth his. i’m your
father, do as i say.
you force your
eyes into hers.
you imagine her breasts.
you enter her politely.
his words still moist
in your ears. kiss her.
want her the way he
wants you—sometimes
when sometime is important.
when the body fails itself.
it’s not supposed to feel
like this, right? you listen
to her moan. you let her
moan. she grabs your
wrist. you snatch away
from your father. remember
this is what he wants.
her and you. you and him…
good job, son, she mouths.
she kisses your lips.
she smiles.
Luther Hughes is a Seattle native, but currently lives in Chicago where he is pursuing his B.A. in poetry at Columbia College Chicago. He currently curates Shade a literary blog for queer writers of color. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Luther’s work has been published or is forthcoming in Muzzle, Winter Tangerine, Vinyl, Word Riot, and others. You can follow him on Twitter @lutherxhughes. He thinks you are beautiful.