Therapy popped you out again
like a rotten vegetable in the garden—
the twelve years
I spent as your sponge,
and now, the boxes I’ve spent
too much time going through
while you sip matcha lattes
bought with the green money of my soul.
You insect,
still squiggly on the microscope slide—
but, as therapy goes,
I’m meant to look,
rummage through the ghost files,
craft taxonomy from crazy.
But, from the way I see it
now, buzz off—
you should be the one
in here.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
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| image © 2025 emma & clint |
A settlement on a hill,
whole,
together, stone
mountain lovers—
birds born
of rain, of forest, of snow—
soon to be one,
blood and bone.
The lights, their eyes—
azure, emerald, form
a curving of hands, hearts
together feathered into
the beautiful poem of home.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
I rarely post process notes with my poems, but for this one, here goes: my son, Clint, whose name means “a settlement on a hill,” recently became engaged to his love, Emma, whose name means “whole.” He proposed at Stone Mountain Park, a special place for the two of them. He comes from rain land, she from snow. His eyes are blue, hers are green. They are very much birds of a feather—having the same heart to serve people. They have been doing so here in the US, with plans to do so soon abroad. They are just simply beautiful poetry together.