A Crue Life 4/4/23 A Crue Life 4/4/23

Sunday

Karian Markos, poetry

By Karian Markos

as a kid I wished for conformity

my name sounds like another word—

what vultures call their breakfast

like Marion with a K

blaming my parents for their ignorance of English homophones is unfair

their thoughtful creativity conceived of this mishmash

for fear a Spanish rooster would awkwardly crow my real name

on the first day of kindergarten—

kikiriki and Kyriaki sound awfully similar

and so abrasive to small, third-generation German Irish ears

and quite the tongue twister for a teacher

the solution—

Karian kicks six kittens quick

rolls off the tongue

my Greek name means Sunday so I could have been a Sunny—

Sunny sells seashells by the seashore

just as easy and no animals were harmed

as a kid I wished for conformity

for sleepovers and dances with boys

for ham and cheese instead of taramosalata

for time outs instead of flying shoes

for the freedom my ancestors coveted

the weight of my family tree was placed square on my shoulders

its reputation was secured in a vault between my legs

pride bedded shame and my tangle of dual loyalties was born

two flags two homes two names

Karian Markos is a Greek American poet, fiction writer and nonprofit attorney living with her husband and three children in the western suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. Much of her poetry and short fiction explores issues relating to identity and mental health. She is currently working on her first novel, a dark fantasy fiction inspired by medieval Greece. She donates much of her professional time to charitable organizations that work with children. Her work has been published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine and Bombfire.