by Lesley Wheeler

There is no happy and
            there is no ending,
just gilded loss
            / muddy return.

Did you think the plot
            was pregnancy?
That this season finale
            would resolve on a woman
propped in a hospital bed,
            laugh track flowing
into cooing? Spring beauty
            swaddled in her arms? Could
happen / not like that. Maybe,
            since time went strange,
the grown figment already sulks
            in a parked sedan,
acne blooming on their cheek.
            Maybe her in / fertility
is not the watershed.

Oh, she looked
            and understood the stick’s
hieroglyphic prediction.
            Its word was not conclusion.

She is a fiction
            to herself. Many
morphologies are possible.
            Differences matter /
differences are carried
            downriver. Next
twist: marry key
            to lock, since seeking’s
all a person’s got. She will
            fall and climb, fail
and try. It may be fine.

Lesley Wheeler’s chapbook Propagation is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press in fall 2017. Previous collections include Radioland and The Receptionist and Other tales. Her poems and essays appear in Ecotone, Crab Orchard Review, Notre Dame Review, and other journals, and she blogs about poetry at She teaches at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia.


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