Melanie Huston

Melanie Huston is a librarian, designer, coder and writer who began publishing poems at the end of her fourth decade. She makes her living in systems design and data science education. Originally from Chicago, she lives outside Washington, D.C.

The Stone of Sisyphus

In the dark, his
shoulders move with
his dream, make dances to
slow music, soft in his head. He
leaks with sweat, is warmed without
sunlight. His bruises mutely yellow and
heal. My old man carries an owl to Athens.
He will show my shadow to the blind. He will
scrub my hide until I glint, like an opal, but today,
once more, he’s forgotten my name. Tomorrow, he
will sing to me, slapping the gravel off his leathered arms.
His eyes will take the incline of unreachable clouds. I wait here,
faithful, for the morning, mein Schatz . No matter—you can try again.

Wound Dehiscence, Ocean

The ocean presents for real-world study
with exposed abdominal slick,
with undressed incision,
bitter, bloodless wound discharge
and hyperthermia
The ocean presents for visual assessment
with grey, thinning carapace,
hair-like apprehensions
and folded, empty claws
under spines as short as early teeth
The ocean presents with unexpected outcomes
following experimental treatment,
fails to achieve wound closure,
stores excess waste in cloudy fluid
and swells from leaking veins
The ocean received inadequate post-operative care
and was never told to avoid activities
that can increase internal pressure,
such as movement, turbulence,
atmospheric gas exchange, or
circulating a decade of grocery bags
between Brisbane and Newport
The ocean was never told which cleanser was best
to avoid infection and how often to scrub,
or whether to use ointment, or vinegar
or peroxide, was never told that ordinary wounds
should naturally heal, that each body strives
for wholeness, not a wholeness bound with casts
or sutures but with the full dimension of itself,
with the quality of being unsubtractible,
unsusceptible,
a surface containing
multitudes

The ocean is cut dry
with a scalpel

The ocean is left, open
on the table

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