My father has never made an effort to memorize how my name is spelled

I gave up all, went into the wildlands.          

 

I was last seen on the peninsula.

 

I was caught in a storm, cast adrift.

 

I and my ships waited in a cave.                                

 

I became lost in the clouds.

 

I disappeared during a descent.

 

There is some evidence my disappearance was voluntary.    

 

I left hints.                             

 

I was depressed, walked out with just 30 dollars.                 

 

I bought a book.                     

 

I got on a train.          

 

I went down into a sewage canal.                 

 

I was presumed to have drowned, but I may have survived.            

 

Several women came forth saying they suspected they might be me.

 

I was found at last, abandoned, partially submerged, listing heavily.
 

They tested me and found incontrovertible proof:

                       

no one is related to me.

---

Elisabeth Blair is a poet, multidisciplinary artist, and manuscript consultant. Her poems have recently appeared in Juked, GNU Journal, WomenArts Quarterly Journal, and Feminist Studies. A chapbook, We He She/It, was published in 2016 by Dancing Girl Press. Another chapbook (Ethel Press, 2020) and a full-length collection (Unsolicited Press, 2022) are forthcoming. Since 2018 she's been honored to be the poetry workshop leader for the Burlington Writers Workshop in Vermont. www.elisabethblair.net