Madeleine Wattenberg: Elegy for an Escaped Aerostat
No one brought her down; we just watched
helium seeping out her seams and thrilled
at her dragging tethers, wiping out electric lines
as they whipped along the roads and fields
of Maryland. Some people, left powerless,
trailed her along the coast until she disappeared
into the edge of the ravine. Draped over
trees—the first time we’d seen the sky
let itself down. What filled her
to lead her to that rocky place. Where
was she going, air-backed, freely broken,
at an unclaimed cost, yet military made.
Though no one brought her down, we
would have, because isn’t every unmanned
body a threat, every unshot surface
skin in waiting, and isn’t this why we love
to hunt something loose over our land
MADELEINE
WATTENBERG studies poetry in the MFA program at George Mason University. She
also holds an MA in English from the University of Cincinnati. Her work has appeared in
Ninth Letter, Guernica, Cactus Heart, and The Louisville
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