Connie Wanek

E Coin Behind Your Ear

Before you knew you owned it It was gone, stolen, and you were a fool. How you never felt it is the wonder, Heavy and thick, Lodged deep in your hair like a burr.

Butter

Butter, like love, Seems common enough Yet has so many imitators. I held a brick of it, heavy and cool, And glimpsed what seemed like skin Beneath a corner of its wrap; The decolletage

Daisies

In the democracy of daisies Every blossom has one vote. The question on the ballot is Does he love me? If the answer’s wrong I try another, A little sorry about the petals Piling

After Us

I don’t know if we’re in the beginning Or in the final stage. Tomas Tranströmer Rain is falling through the roof. And all that prospered under the sun, The books that opened in the

Jump Rope

There is menace In its relentless course, round and round, Describing an ellipsoid, An airy prison in which a young girl Is incarcerated. Whom will she marry? Whom will she love? The rope, like

Coloring Book

Each picture is heartbreakingly banal, A kitten and a ball of yarn, A dog and bone. The paper is cheap, easily torn. A coloring book’s authority is derived From its heavy black lines As