Influences
i)
Parsonās Pond, The Arches,
Logger School Road, Bonne Bay,
Frying Pan Pond, Atlantic mackerel,
Copper Lakes, Nipperās Harbour,
Humber River, Mad Dog Lake, Brakeās Cove,
short-horned sculpin, forget-me-nots,
Gros Morne, caribou, Lady Slipper Road,
Serpentine Valley, roseroot, Starlight Trail,
Buster Goughās Pond, Pinchgut Lake,
The Wreckhouse, brook trout, black spruce,
Little Port Head, Guernsey Island, balsam fir,
Joe Baggsā Pond, Table Mountain, Iceberg Alley,
St. Anthony Bight, black bear, Cookās Brook,
lowbush blueberry, Killdevil Mountain,
Spruce Pond, herring gull, Blomidon Hills,
partridgeberry, pitcher plant, Coppermine Cape,
Woody Point, spruce grouse, Norris Point,
Ten Mile Pond, Green Gardens, Arctic hare,
Rocky Pond, bakeapple, Bottle Cove, Burgeo,
Long Point, Bay of Islands, the Tablelands,
bald eagle, Marble Mountain, Gull Pond,
Signal Hill, lilac, Bellās Brook, Cape Spear,
grey jay, Man in the Mountain, moose,
beaver, tuckamore, Cedar Cove.
ii)
Skim-milk powder, baloney sandwiches,
snow through the gap in the doorframe
of our Dunfield apartment, frying chips
in lard on the stovetop, food-bank onions
and white rice in Ziploc bags, cans
of potted meat, cans of flaked ham,
cans of corned beef, cans and cans and
cans of __________, boxes of Kraft
Dinner, Mr. Noodles, Kool-Aid and Tang,
Plymouth Reliant Ks and Chevettes
with bench seats and only one mirror,
seatbelts still just suggestions,
trouting with uncles, all tough talk
and plaid jackets, fading blue-green
tattoos of crosses, nude women on their
forearms, couple sixers of Black Horse
in the canoe, not a lifejacket to be seen
between us, bags of one-cent candy
from the Corner Market, some family
friend behind me in line buying beer, cigarette
dangling from his lip, tightly permed
cashier offering him an ashtray,
eventually graduating from milk powder
to cans of evap, from Kool-Aid to frozen
cans of juice concentrate, Cheers and Taxi
on our black-and-white set, Letterman and SNL
in their prime, Fogarty telling the coach
to put him in centre field, Starship claiming
to have built this city from nothing more
than rock and roll.
iii)
Ralph Gough.
Occupation: blacksmith.
Cast himself roughshod,
some stoic, stony figure
to look up to. Served a stint
in the First World War.
Newfoundland Regiment,
number 781. Age: 21.
Early discharge for disorderly,
fit right in the Bay of Islands,
boxed bare-knuckle for sport.
Rudolph Gough Sr.
Occupation: wood-cutter.
Hands like bear traps, still
hand-rolled perfect cigarettes.
The odd hip flask passed around
with lunch, slabs of baloney
on mustard sandwiches.
A few coffee-can tea kettles
on a low fire, ten tea bags
to a brew, and the stuffās dark
as the Humber, strong enough
to strip bark. Spent his last decade
alone, mug after mug of weak tea
as he mourned my grandmother,
raised two grandkids as his own.
Rudolph James Gough Jr.
Occupation: labourer.
Gunninā it through the Wreckhouse
dark to catch the night crossing,
a few hours sleep before the twenty
hours straight drive to Toronto.
Long before Fort McMurray flooded
our heads with dreams of more than
getting by. Always brought some odd
gift to mark his return home.
One year it was coins and bills
from French Guyana, the dollar
so thick, so real in my small palm.
Another year, a margarine tub
of saved change. A first edition
of some book neither of us had
heard of. The cover was embossed
leather, the lady he bought it from
claimed it came across and landed at
Ellis Island. I think on that feeling,
coming home after months away,
standing on the deck, approaching
Port aux Basques. Never so happy
to feel a bitter wind running you
through to the bone.
iv)
Both my grandmothers
have been dead for decades.
I am 36. My fatherās mother,
Ella, when I was 8, my sister
just months old. My motherās
mother, Marion, when I was 14.
I ...