– Lydia Ann Stern

Yes. Oh. Oh.

You were born from

sweet, fruited wines            and

concoctions of hopsandbarley.

Ah. Yes.    Yes.

You were conceived   from   the

faults of   latex .

Oh. There!   Yes!   A h !

You were produced

on f l o w e red bed sheets

seen through

shadowed light—

reflection cast through a smudged

mirror.

God is hidden inthe bedside table.

I’m close! Ah. Oh!      OH,

Child—

You bear no resemblance to

your father.