SHELLEY OUELLETTE - POEMS

Shelley Ouellette is a mother of three who lives and writes in Rochester, NY. She is employed in higher education, and is completing a degree program in English with Writing. Her work has been featured in Naturewriting.com.

​Moonlit

​I can see his footprints,
but he is worlds away quarreling with himself
even in fresh night air.
 
His eyes fall
under the weight of years of pain. Brave––
Alive.
 
He can’t hear me
in there.
Moon, illuminate the sky
and tug him back home.

​In a Daughter’s Absence

​Today, I am useless––I’m calling
for rain. My eyes shun light. Yesterday
was a heart-ful––sunny, fleeting
…over.                I’m left
missing her smile.
 

​Love

​Clock-heart ticks louder.
Window-irises open wide to the light.
Wind-voice silently speaks inside my
Cloud-head that tries to keep my
Breeze-feet out of
the sky.
 

​Clouded

​ 
I think I saw you there.
I think I saw you…
You were the one standing at the bar,
and I was the one who didn’t want to see you true.
 
I go out willingly
with a plan to look amazing and talk to no one.
They are all just like him
—never giving fully.
I can’t wait to make him my ex.
 
I think I saw you there.
I think I imagined you.
You were the one with the blanketing warmth,
and I was the one that was shivering.
 
In another rut
a series of men who don’t deserve me
flock my way.
 
I think I saw you there.
I think that was you.
I was the one walking through the clouded city
alone and grey,
and you were the one laughing with friends
in a patch of sun.
 
No matter how I try to arm myself,
I stupidly make my way back
to hope.
 
On the train that day
I think I saw you there.
I think I saw you true.
You were the one with the briefcase
and I was the one who couldn’t look away.
 
­­
[Inspired by Railroad Phoenix, by Alicia Hoffman]
 
 

​Fear

​writes letters to
my heart. my feet,
at river’s edge, slide into
moving water. my fingers clutch
branches that reach out their arms
to me as I pass.
I can’t hold on.