February 2024
Rhonda Melanson
rhondamelanson4@gmail.com
rhondamelanson4@gmail.com
Bio Note: I am a graduate of Queen’s University's Artist In The Community Education Program and I have been published in several print and online magazines. I am the author of two chapbooks: Gracenotes (Beret Days Press) and My Name is Mary (Alien Buddha Press). I also co-edit a literary blog Uproar.
The Goddess Laura
You hated the name Laura, given to you by your godmother.
Yet your life, the practicality of a Laura. In one old photograph,
you're sprawled long and lanky in prairie grass, siblings tumbling
over and around you, all the while, your eyes, necessarily strong,
straight into the camera.
In another photo, matching trousers with your bushel of brothers,
arms linked, each person's raised leg, synchronized in chorus line pose.
Later, you would sit with them, manspread, swear buckets about your day.
Fast forward to moments without stills, Watch the goddess raise an arm,
browns of eyes dug in for battle, a menacing voice to my grandfather-
hit me again and I'll kill you!
Years after the war, the goddess Laura, wearing tan polyester pants,
triumphantly rides a camel on vacation in Morrocco. Fearless.
I have pictures of that too.
Little Mouthfuls of Language
i:
As your rosebud lips sound out
words like valentimes & pissghetti
roll them around your soft, thick inner cheeks
savour their sweetness, say them again
more so I can relish your tender flaws
when using your voice, how what you hear
and what you say don't always match, how
I can still feed you proper sounds, meanings
my little birds.
ii:
When out on yard duty, I hear you,
under the wind's breath, cuss words
you heard at home. They fly out,
slam your opponent when they beat
you on the field, when they cheated!
Listen to me when I say- Watch your
language- let those words fall to the ground
dissipate like morning dew, let them
become spectators in world that needs not
recess trophies, but testaments to silence.
iii:
Remember first recess when you tattled-
he called me the D word- what D word,
douchebag, dickhead, dummy?
Tell me!
Like sheets, your eyes turned down
like red candy hearts, your cheeks burn
you gulp, ask to go inside
because you think you need to throw up.
It's that bad. The taste in your mouth.
©2024 Rhonda Melanson
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