"Blayne’s Sonata" by Laura D’Angelo

Green lace transparency

Coming to sing the blues.

You straddle the stratosphere

And comb through starlight,

On one dusty spaceship

Soaring through every hurdling cliche

Like dodging asteroids

I hear this melody and soar to your chest,

Vomit tartan and create Familial Crests.

Your hair a freak accident,

Inherited through Irish Mistakes

Like the bottle or a keenness of sunflowers.

Here is your reminder:

A sore red thumb,

Beauty as big as hers:

A grand secret.

Let her be a fiery, sacred namesake.

Blandine,

Palming ceremonies

Comes out the other end,

Obtuse but clean.

How you do not flock to the page after catching a glimpse?

Clamours up monastery steps,

Propelled by prophecy

Her millions of little deities:

Deliberate to me.

A canopy dirt road,

Close your eyes and swerve for roadkill,

Blaze lightyears away.

The foxes, three trotting by,

Were yours—never mine.

All carrying prey for their keeper

I’ll join a convent,

Imagine a bland serenity

For you to frequent

A shopper,

“All Things Must Go!”

Think of me so small and laugh through a hollow smile

Waves of wonder through stained glass

A heroine or concubine,

A virgin on your dashboard.

Laura D'Angelo is currently completing her undergraduate degree in English Literature at McGill University. She is excited to be featured in this issue of Lantern and hopes to continue to work with Cactus Press in the future!