Jenna Rindo Verse-Virtual 2016 November

November 2016

I live with my husband Ron, our youngest son, Noah and a varied collection of wild and domesticated animals in rural Wisconsin. For several years I worked as a pediatric intensive care nurse and like to incorporate my hospital experiences into poems. I now teach English to Arabic, Hmong, Spanish, Chinese, and Kurdish speakers at the elementary level. My poems have been published in American Journal of Nursing, Calyx, Bellingham Review, Tampa Review, and other journals.

Hmong is No Romance Language

My laminated alphabet falls
from the cinderblock wall.
It is defeated by the Secret War,
the Mekong River running red.
Meekado sketches stories from
Wat Tham Krabok, a Buddhist
temple turned refugee camp.
Razor wire circles his stick
people. Rats are roasted over
burn barrels. My American
ears strain to hear the full
range of his home language.

I am paid to teach speaking,
reading and writing English,
a language of consumerism
promising priceless moments
and worldwide acceptance.
Hmong overflows with oral
complexities. Eight lexical
tones shift meaning between
short words. White and Green
dialects disregard phonemes,
while Shamans bridge
the living to the dead.

-first published in Comstock Review 2012

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