POETRY / I was terrified as a kid / Victoria Nordlund
of quicksand & tar pits & pterodactyls after religiously watching The Flintstones,
of inhaling a peanut after Grandpa Walter showed us the X-ray of one in his lung,
of Shel Silverstein’s photo on the back cover of The Giving Tree,
of a handmade Virgin Mary statue in my parents’ closet after Dad revealed they saw her move,
of my teacher who tied my left hand behind my back & made me write with my right,
of spontaneous human combustion,
of pictures with the Cherry Hill Mall Santa,
of a stapler after getting my wrist stuck to my teacher’s green bulletin board,
of what Mom told me I should fear:
Grandma’s radioactive Fiestaware
& color TV’s & microwave ovens
& red M&M’s & the bug spray truck
& drinking out of other people’s glasses—
of God, when Mom declared He gives girls babies when they’re ready—
Does God ever get it wrong?
as I swallow my wad of Juicyfruit
& imagine it stuck with the others inside my belly.
Victoria Nordlund's poetry collections Wine-Dark Sea and Binge Watching Winter on Mute are published by Main Street Rag. She is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize Nominee, whose work has appeared in PANK Magazine, Rust+Moth, Chestnut Review, Maudlin House, trampset, and elsewhere. Visit her at VictoriaNordlund.com