Elle Wonders

Do you?


After work
he sits
on the couch
and thinks
about bliss.
He writes
in his notebook
the things
he mustn’t forget,
then grabs the leash
and steps through
the twilight.

Bliss follows him
into the night,
matching his stride,
to shoulder,
fingertips touching,
as a fawn
colored dog
trots up ahead,
leading the way.

He stops
when they reach
the water tower.
He puts his hand
on his chest pocket,
feels his heart move,
and knows
she’s there with him.
Where did you
come from?
he asks.
Bliss smiles
and tells him
she was born
just back there,
in the doorway.

The dark clouds
roll in
and he snaps
a photograph
of them standing
in front
of the tower
with her name.
Come my way,
he tells her,
and together
they walk home
catching raindrops
with their tears.


©Elle Wonders 2017



She asks me
how I am
and I tell her
I’m afraid of dying –
of becoming
a dot without
or consequence.
I blot my eyes
with a wet
paper towel
and she assures me
that many people
find comfort
in being a dot.
Dots can rest
and not be judged
and don’t feel
I still don’t want
to be a dot
I tell her
and then we talk
about her trip
to Mexico
and how she went
horseback riding
on the beach
like a tourist,
which is good
because yesterday
she found a lump
and feels too tired
to contest being
a dot.


©Elle Wonders 2017


Two Mile Road


On our way down
to little bay
we stumble upon
an unlit dirt road
as black
as a bottle of pitch.

When we see
the sleeping
farm houses
safely tucked away
in the tall fields
we stop fighting
and surrender
to the sea air
as it moves in
to claim us.

From your lap
I tilt my head back
to see Jupiter
as your skin
touches mine,
and I prepare
for our ascension
into the stars.



©Elle Wonders 2017

A Map of My Existence


As I laid
on the exam table,
the diagnostic
slid over
the thick coating
of gel
on my neck.
As she captured
after image
I stared
at the patterned
ceiling tiles
as if they were
a map
of my existence,
and imagined
how it might feel
to fade away
into a darkness
and cease
to exist.

When it was over
and we were
in the room,
I dried my tears
and told you
“For the first time
in my life
I finally
the will to live.”

You then
drove me home
in the rain
only briefly
to pick up
a small
white paper bag
of indica.



©Elle Wonders 2017


When he said

“Stay with me”

last week,

he meant

please don’t


from his life.

When he said

“Stay with me”

last night,

he meant

please don’t


from this world.



©Elle Wonders 2017




When you asked me
If I would follow you,
I didn’t know
you would take me
to a place
where words
would flow
like the Mississippi
and cross
just as many
state lines.

I didn’t know
You would build
a bonfire
of nurture
and proclivity
and burn a clearing
big enough
for me
to run around in.

I didn’t know
you would
harness energy
like a plough horse
and cut
through the earth,
overturning it,
exposing the roots
of my mind.



©Elle Wonders 2017

Ice Cream

I smiled

when I saw him.

Like I had been waiting

in line for ice cream

and it was finally

my turn.



©Elle Wonders 2017

Two Weeks

“I fell in love with you

the first day we met,”

he told me

as we crawled into bed.

The very first day?

You’re sure?

“Yes, but I had to

wait two weeks

to tell you.”

Why is that?

“Because otherwise you

would think I was just like

the rest.”



©Elle Wonders 2017

Old Blue


Sultry is the night
in a polka dot dress.
Fingers trail
cool waters
as we glide south
on our backs
gazing at comets.

Your hands, wet
from Old Blue,
roam the curve
of the land
to my ankle.
There’s laughter.
Soft. Anxious.
Was it mine?

The coat of night
stuck to your skin
feels fine.
“Your hair —
it smells of peaches,”
you whisper.
Or maybe
it’s just Georgia
waving her sweet

Water laps over
the edge of our raft
and lulls us.
Your hand glides
up my smooth calf
crossing my knee.
A shy laugh blends
with a bashful smile.
Eyes lock under
the illumination
of a low hanging sky.

Soft supple lips
so close
seeking moisture
despite the damp air.
Noses touch.
A biting lip
betrays the moment.
Your hand stops
to brush peach locks
behind my ear,
then once again
returns to its perch
on my ankle.
Good betrayal.
Knowing betrayal.
A necessary betrayal
under the umbrella
of darkness.

And there you are.
I see you now.
“I’m just a guy on a raft,”
you tell me,
as we drift with the current.
But what were you
before this?
“I don’t even remember.”



©Elle Wonders 2017

He Sounds

A bit rough
but heart felt.
by composure
and delicacy,
comes easily,
before all else,
and fills him
with a raw
that won’t
be driven out
by the wind.
There’s a bit
of twang,
a bit of Kansas,
and lots of life.


©Elle Wonders 2017


lowercase m

An out of place m

is a signpost

telling you

that the person

is far angrier

than they claim,

so be sure

not to listen

when they tell you

how they actually feel

if they start

their sentence

with a lowercase




©Elle Wonders 2017



They are stones
from a crofter’s
wheelbarrow –
piling up
one after another
building a shelter
to house a lifetime
of wonder.

They are the whir
of a one-cylinder
fueled by a hunger
to propel us
to a place
not yet known.

They are the pluck
of a string
held taut
between us,
the echo in a glen
of never-ending sky,
and the softness
of a beating heart
that yearns
for this life.



©Elle Wonders 2017

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