CONJUNCTIONS: A Web Exclusive


Three Poems
Ellen Wehle



Every Jet You Watch Cross the Sky Is Me Leaving


Lanterns follow the footpath


Briefly then dwindle


Acorns rattle their hard questions


In this hour naked with fog you find me


Difficult to hoard


Tossed into last night’s fountain


I glister at the bottom


My kimono of oak leaves


Coals underwater








If Not the Bliss We Were Promised


If stars sing in our blood of trace metals


If atomic clocks rely on excitation


Sap rising up sugar maples


How many winters of white sleep


I awaited that arrival


If our fingertips house a hundred nerves


Each lit with alchemical fire


Name my race dust name me void’s daughter


If half-dead I just kept choosing


Light frozen to a solid


What else could it be this brilliant


Pane the fly is drawn to








Once I No Longer Lived Here


Even the songbirds excised my name

                                               Bowdlerized, blacked out of snapshots

                        Now voyager sail thou forth

I became a unicorn of legend

                                    Bridled with roses, had I ever

                        Slept here domestic

            Writ my will upon moving water

                                               Archives expunged

                                                            Mealtimes carried on without me

                                    Sawn in half, a trick I’d perfected

Doffing my top hat of aces and doves

                                               Cabinets gaping off

                        Hinges, music dead-stopped, every chair taken

                                    True as a turnstile

                        I had left them

Not a flicker of wind to trouble the candles