Poems: Lana Petersson

Ascophyllum Nodosum

The only scientific name I remember
from marine biology eight years ago
when a love of the sea became a dream
of a job of playing with dolphins
at Sea World.

But science was much too logical.
Biology. Astronomy. Physics.
All I knew was it was there-
plants, tides, seals, gravity.
And that was real enough for me.

What’s in a name that can’t
tell you the crisp pop the sea weed pods
make when you squeeze hard enough
that the sticky gel oozes onto your fingers
or the salted crisp green that cuts into your nostrils?

Who cares of downwelling, climate variability or the temperature
of current sweeping East to West,
if you can’t feel the salt sting a hiding wound
or let it hold you and rock you,
toss you in its power?

The phytoplankton are key to the food chain,
but have you trusted beyond
the dark oiled sea surface of the night,
let the points of star light from the deep
light up with a sweep of your arm?

The common name is knotted wrack.
And did you know it is edible?


--Lana Petersson



We lived at 474 Huron Ave

Me second, her first
story we wrote in that double decker
all day to Larch Street Park
our pink Huffy bicycles and then ride
fast past the fierce neighbor’s bark
of birch trees we peeled slowly
to write never ending stories we promised to stick
from backyard we piled into secret shelters
played Peter Pan, stuffed bear on watch
ticks told moms we were not home in time
locked out, made ten times door bell ring
made of dandelions and marigold stains.

A story we did not believe in Neverland
when mom said we were moving two towns over
we hid in bunk bed made Noah’s Arch ship
stuffed animals suffocated in cardboard boxes
and away went Uhaul boxes taped
singing Raffi, Baby Beluga, sing your little song
stroked red curls out of best friend’s face
fact of new town, neighbor, friend
distance would not be bridged by flashlight signs
mom and dad the new deed
we did in secret to say Goodbye…


--Lana Petersson