I was thinking about yo momma jokes—
how we entertain the ridiculous
took a picture of her last Christmas, still printing
how we’re tickled by alternate universes
takes an hour for her to cook minute rice
she eats what she wants
doesn’t listen to her doctors.
She normalizes tacky bits of denial;
venn diagrams shame into thirds.
Ideally, I laugh at my mother-self:
we’re recipients of drop-dead
(not gorgeous) genes
being first-in-the-family garners
irregular distance from others.
When I cry tears of laughter
it’s really a heart-felt attempt
to draw out excessive water
create less conducive grounds
for germs—predisposed & self-inflicted—
a method for curing meat.
Shareen K. Murayama lives in Honolulu, Hawaii. She has degrees in English from the University of Hawaii and Creative Writing from Oregon State University. Her art has been published or is forthcoming in No Contact Mag, Stone of Madness Press, The West Review, 433 Magazine, Ghostheart Lit., Crab Fat, Prometheus Dreaming, Inter|rupture & Phoebe. You can find her on IG & Twitter @ambusypoeming.