2 Poems by Elyse Jancosko

Broken Pedals

It’s blueberry pie that I made 
and tossed off the balcony
hot into the dumpster.

It’s ice cream 
passed between scoops,
never a bowl home.
Bloody annoying

curves in the road. It’s a wreck, 
a bicyclist she ran into a wall, 
flat on the sidewalk, 
legs curled against her chest. 

It’s the fetal position,
we all came out crying. 

Ambulance firetrucks 
gawkers. I saw them 
wheel out a gurney. 
It’s a black steel frame,

white cushions. It’s the 
cushions that held her. 

I rode my bike right by
thinking about a dandelion 
puff that I blew when I 
was six. I made a wish. 

My pedals kept me going. 
For just a moment,
I thought about dying 
women everywhere.


Uprooting

Carp experts say 
all goldfish are actually invasive
carp that have traveled 
 
from afar to become people’s pets. 
When dumped into ponds, 
they grow, unlimited 
 
by a fishbowl. 
Native plants simply cannot establish 
roots in those ponds. 
 
Someone 
caught a four-pound goldfish 
of which I saw a photo: 
an orange-scaled football 
 
carefully cradled
by a local fisherman. 
 
A carp that simply 
could not establish 
roots as a pet.
 
A scientist looked 
at its inner ear bone 
under a microscope 
 
to count its growth rings.
Has it reached its
potential? 
 
Did it know 
it was discarded? 
 
I for one don’t feel
sorry for that pond’s fate.
 
Source: Football-size Goldfish Found in a Minnesota Lake


Elyse Jancosko was born and raised in a small town hidden in the Appalachians. She studies theopoetics and conducts poetry therapy and expressive writing groups in Denver where she lives and works.