Poetry by Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom

Carl Wycoff CC



Siren


I threw my life away, but it swam back,
circled like a shark, stuck 
like a salmon,
persevered, 

and though I seared it in its skin, it kept
its vigil, haunting from 
each night within
its stream, 

sang strong its tender anthem, held 
until at last I sank with 
it, then pulled us 
up – beneath 

the moonlit jellies, danced its lonely 
dance with it, 
and sang a-
long;





Memento Vitae


A little yellow bloom of something wild, folded loose in my jacket,

found years later not quite crisp – the slenderest 

of miracles 


it kept some small belief, its certain shape, unbrittled. Was it 

love? I have no memory of touch but only words

for it, and rhizomatic 


roots that sought a way around, a path back down. My father

knew, I know. My father didn’t doubt, though 

no one prayed. 


Even as air burned and parting words were ocean water, 

he kept faith with me, each in its time, and then 

at last, one day, 


perhaps –



​
Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom's poems have appeared in journals such as Gargoyle, Arsenic Lobster, and most recently Ghost City Review, and her book reviews have appeared in Lines+Stars and the Iowa Review. She has published two chapbooks, Blue Trajectory from Dancing Girl Press and Minor Theodicies from Finishing Line Press. She holds an M.A. in Writing from Johns Hopkins University and in 2009 founded the online journal Melusine, which she edited until 2016.  She lives in Maryland with her partner and their two fantastic kids, works as a copyeditor, and is a graduate certificate candidate in Disability Studies. She tweets sometimes @jekihlstrom.