ISSUE 12
August 2000

Elana Wolff

 

Elana Wolff lives in Toronto, Canada and teaches English as a Second Language at York University. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications in Canada, the US, and abroad, including Canadian Literature, Descant, The Fiddlehead, The Jabberwock Review, The Oregonian, and Poetry Ireland Review.
And Yet Somehow I Do    Click to hear in real audio


I don't want to write like a demolitionist.

It's enough to watch tulips for a morning
at the stage of late maturity

when they've opened their big pink
petals so wide

they no longer stand upright, their
inside practically out.

White triangular stigmas
sticky as innards,

powder-dusted
anthers the yellow of urine.

And as for their stems,
those gracile reeds,

too thin for
commodious head-tops.

These are the minutes before collapse.
I recognize the sign—

the feeling of being
charged at the denouement.

 

 

Divining    Click to hear in real audio


My name is also a truffle
you tell me

a thin
white layer

of Belgian
chocolate lacquering

dark insides.
Identical spelling as well

you tell me
would have to oracle something

and you mail me the wrapper
to read.

I once held another
object you gave me

like a geomancer's rod
hoping you would cue me

from its metal.
The humbug was

the harder I gripped,
the more

my fingers
twitched.

 

 

Elana Wolff: Poetry
Copyright 2000 The Cortland Review Issue 12The Cortland Review