Abstract landscape with Sunlight

THE CANDY LADY

Dee Allen

1980: Age 12:
She had anything
The neighbourhood kids’
Sweet tooths craved:

Snickers, Milky Ways, M & Ms, Twizzlers liquorice, jawbreakers, Bubble Yum, Kit-Kats,
Reese’s peanut butter cups, a new candy bar called Twix, around Xmas shopping
Season, peppermint sticks, Jolly Ranchers, Lemonheads—

The very things
That made young mouths sing
She kept stacked and stocked
In coloured boxes on her shelves.
Ours for the asking,
Between 25 cents and $2.

The Candy Lady,
Kind, grandmotherly Black neighbour,
Sweeter than the treats she sold from her home,
Made herself a good living
Ruining kids’ appetites before dinner.

Anyone of us on the block
[ Including my cousins and me ]
Could venture at a guess
Social Security payments
From the government
Didn’t give the old woman
Around the corner enough to live on monthly.

Nothing wrong with
Having a side hustle
That kept children
Happy and fed
Full of sugar.

 

AUDRA

Strutting onto a stage
Tailored for Broadway plays
In a bright white dress & flower over the ear.
The spotlight’s on her.
Accomplished theatre actress
Taking on the role of a famous
Singer—her second talent.
Classically-trained, hitting high notes
Like Leontyne Price, Opera dynamo.
This time around, though,
She channels her projected
Voice, recalling a unique
Bluesy, Southern lazy snarl
To which old school Jazz fans are familiar.
It shows in her chosen
Love rhapsodies
Hard luck stories
In song:
“Crazy He Calls Me”, “Solitude”, “God Bless The Child”, “What A Little Moonlight Can Do”.
Accomplished songbird,
Born Audra McDonald,
Found this voice listening to old records
And remembering how her nanna spoke.
She stands before an enraptured audience.
Releasing all the heartbreak, the passion, vocal range, raw skill
Billie Holiday had—
Worthy of a standing ovation—

 

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte
The Illustrated Woman
Always seen adorned in funeral-ready black
Charged hair, halter top, shorts, shredded nylons, engineer boots.

Charlotte
Comes practically stomping
In front of her devotees,
Freaky denizens of the nightclub, standing room only.

Charlotte
Mother Of Whispers
Who never whispers on stage.
Once the mic’s in her hand, the excitement begins.

Charlotte
Equipped with a voice
Not soft & aethereal, but mid-range & crooning,
Burst into raw, primal shouts, weaved with melody.

Charlotte
2020s Death Rocker look.
1990s Riot Grrrl attitude.
Delightful sounds can be dark and rocking. And she delivers both.

Charlotte
Backed by the Nox. Street-hardened wail soars
Above the music, from the tattooed, pale, pretty, powerlifting package
Charlotte Eve Blythe.