King

by Shahe Mankerian

I.
He blind-
folded me to hide
the house
he just bought

sweat
between our palms
my father held
my hand tight
to cross
the street

he wanted to show
his son
he was finally
king

II.
The sprinklers
were not win-
king properly

he planned
to fix them
in July

the grass was dry
I had magnifying
glass in my pocket

he was panic-
king
his son was
a maniac

the yellow gutter
was peeling
color

he was thin-
king to paint
the house
in July

the realtor's
sign was sin-
king

III.
He promised
to build me
a house
in the avocado
tree

we sawed off
branches and
hammered nails
to support
wood

we had to destroy
nests
to make room
for my castle

we had to stop
clouds interfered
with our plans

my kingdom
half erect
covered with plastic

IV.
My father was bored
he refused to shave
I wanted to stop the rain
the paint was peeling the house

My father felt naked
he fought with mother
I wanted to stop the rain
the tree spit out the nails

My father was dethroned
he was forced to sell the house
I wanted to stop the rain
the clouds finally looked
dehydrated

Shahe Mankerian calls Pasadena home. He received his graduate degree in English from California State University, Los Angeles, and wrote a book of poetry entitled Children of Honey. Recently, his work was featured in Birthmark, an anthology of Armenian-American poets.