THREE POEMS / Ellen Welcker
The Hadal Zone in order to discuss some issues, one must gain remove from them in order to discuss some issues, one must get up inside of them in order to discuss some issues, one must “open” oneself make it “go away” see it “anew” I saw a man once I’d lived with him almost twenty years You could say we were lovers I saw a darling little creature dumpling, I called and stooped to gather creature up in order to discuss some issues, one must call on an expert in order to discuss some issues, one must call an orange an orange a caw a caw brimstone, brimstone I moved through the world like a trench I moved through water like a stargazer one must admit the existence of tubeworms in order to discuss some issues one must be intricate necessity and the next moment, replaceable Late Reign II Outside the sky is paranoia, the weather is paranoia, the color is fear to stench, the boy at the bus stop’s dad is buying coffee. The weird little child is humming. Outside inside the car, the dog is covering the windows in saliva. The mother is texting how do I, how do I... The child wants the threat of war to be as unreal as the other wars, the real ones, droning on, the drones honing in on the others. The child wants to pack her for lunch, wants a stuffie made of mama, wants to die together. Monday is a light blue day, Wednesday a little cinnamon-y. Or should be. Tell someone, whoever, just to bury them in the backyard. every view through branches trying to work through this thing where someone might need to NOT me a decentering knocks the tilt right out. spindly little axis. like a deer’s leg. that’s me. I haven’t— and that part— and— (‘and’ being the holding of twined-up truths & ruthless little—)(each wears a little tuxedo—each so dapper & charming) it is something really something to be bye-byed. Sky doesn’t make mistakes, cries the child. Sky just relaxes up there. Trees don’t make mistakes—they’re not even human. Ash falls from the low, sick sky. It is the burnt remains of forests. If I inhale, I’ll know something. ⁂ Ellen Welcker’s books are Ram Hands (Scablands Books, 2016), The Botanical Garden, (Astrophil Press, 2010), and several chapbooks, including The Pink Tablet, just out from Fact-Simile Editions. She lives in Spokane, WA.