wicked alice| fall 2009

current | archives | guidelines | blog | dgp| sundress




Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom




Last night I dreamt you were a goat --

not a whole goat

or even a half goat --

just really a one-quarter

goat, from the kneecaps down

like wooden splints,

bearded above the hoof, no other clue

except a hint of musk.


You didn't play the violin.

I think you were some

kind of day trader.


So I wake to find this spindly

leg of lamb

still sitting in the fridge,

left over

from the company soiree,

that I only took to be polite,

that's waiting

on the garbage.


It's peppered and probably

succulent, if one

had a taste for lamb.


An odd coincidence,

that the things I dream of

now are the sort of black magic

that come to death

instead of life --

and appear,


in Styrofoam boxes,


beside a sticky patch of rice,

a pool of mint,

and a bouquet of radishes.


Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom lives just outside D.C., where, after earning her writing degree recently, she has been in danger of going rogue.  Her poems have appeared previously in Wicked Alice, as well as Eclectica, Prick of the Spindle, Lines + Stars, Thirteen Myna Birds, and a special edition of blossombones featuring electronic chapbooks by women poets.  She edits the new journal Melusine.