Victoria Melekian

MAYBELLENE
_{after Maybellene, song by Chuck Berry}

My guitar playing, hot-footed
stage dazzler, sweet honey luscious

peach of a man, let me tell you,
Mr. Hipster, don’t be finger

pointing at Maybellene. I never
started back nothing cause I never

did nothing. Listen, foot tapper,
hip swiveler, dancing man, Maybellene

is true, truer than a straight line, truer
than a wood cross on a steeple, truer

than the shiny tail fins on my Coupe
de Ville. No need to worry ‘bout me,

sugar mango pie, just you catch up,
Maybellene’ll show you she’s true.

“YOUR NUMBER IS IN MY ADDRESS BOOK. DO WE KNOW EACH OTHER?”
_{—spam text message}

Yes, yes, oh yes, we know each other,
my darling, sweet cayenne, spicy hot
chili pepper, honeysuckle lover. It’s me,

Nadia, from the conference in Atlanta.
Oh, those languid river walks, slow
wisteria mornings. Sweet plum, you

left a lingering taste of toasted almonds.
Wild cherry mango, please, come soon.
I’m frenzied. Let’s do more, forever.

Victoria Melekian writes poetry and short fiction. Her work has appeared in print and online and has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. She makes quilts, watches the birds on her fence, and practices “Pachelbel’s Canon in D” on the piano. Victoria grew up in Los Angeles and now lives with her husband in Carlsbad, California. For more, visit her website https://victoriamelekian.com