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(PROSE POETRY)

TO EACH PARISHIONER THEIR OWN

​KAILEY MEDZADOURIAN

​In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; hands whip the motions. She genuflects at the alter and bows her head for the final blessing. Never preaching what is practiced, the religion she’s ashamed to represent still owns her, pressing its scripture into the palms of her virgin hands. Sixteen, never-been-kissed, mortified, but still remiss to the idle worship she sees in each passing face during communion. A zombie to the cause, branded by a belief that can give and take relief, she wakes up every morning with a half-smile. The other half remembers that angels aren’t real, that the Bible is a best-seller and that there’s not a single person in this parish who doesn’t feel the same way. Still, she dips her fingers in holy water on Sunday mornings and prays for her enemies. She never prays for herself.

Picture



​Kailey Medzadourian
is a 2019 graduate from the University of Scranton with her Bachelor of Arts in strategic communication. Her work has previously appeared in Right Hand Pointing and her university's literary magazine Esprit.

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