Scenes from the Antichrist

Khaen is a writer and science educator. Since earning her doctorate in molecular phylogenetics, she has worked as human anatomy and physiology teaching faculty. Her book of poetry, The Bone Collectors, is unpublished. She lives in Ames, Iowa with her husband and their two children.

Scenes from the Antichrist

I was raised by a pack of wild televisions.
In a world where the dead heroine always
Reappeared, and the townspeople rejoiced
Though she never remembered who she was.

I’ve been haunted by static my entire life.
Flashes from scenes that I refuse
To believe are real. I keep waiting for the director
To shout “CUT and PRINT” but the film
Keeps rolling.

It’s a murder mystery. A real whodunnit.
What I want to know is who didn’t do it:
Scenes of the wolf coming home from work
Scenes of the wolf leaving his
Dirty boots by the door
Scenes of the wolf turning my bones.

The wolf says when Christ died,
He died for good.
People don’t come back
Except in movies.

When my Great-Grandmother died,
I dreamt of Africa and tribal
Rituals. I dug her up and danced with her.

I write my name. I erase my name.
I write my name. I erase my name.
Or perhaps he will erase it for me.

One thought on “Scenes from the Antichrist

  1. Wow. This is powerful and overwhelming. It is the dance and the epic romance of memory, the “static” that underlies it, the question of whether memory can ever be trusted with so little empirical.


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