Friday, August 29, 2014

On Dead Dragonfly and Giant Mushroom Trail

It’s on our lips,
we’re whispering the change of time
while the ear tips of trees
are burning orange.

Seven and I
pick and eat blackberries,
just a few, though—
as the bulk have not yet turned
from green,
to red,
to purplish-black.

Not far away
charcoal is smoldering
and the scent of
grilling hot dogs
keeps summer alive—

we pause,
as much to watch
a rabbit watching us
and then bounce away,

as to hold on
to the end
and the beginning.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

“Seven” refers to my seven-year-old.  There is a trail near our house we often walk on where he found a beautiful dead dragonfly and where a giant mushroom grows sideways out of the trunk of a fallen tree, thus, the title.  Happy changing of seasons!

For OLN at dVerse

Friday, August 22, 2014

Cleaning House

In my thrift store psyche
the ghost of you sits
in a ring of dust
on a table not quite antique.

I keep check on it
every now and then,
making sure you haven’t reappeared

midst blue and gold gilded vases,
LP’s with faded jackets,
and hand-me-downs.

New stuff gets added
daily, weekly, monthly. . .

and some things find other homes, too—
like you.

One day I’ll dust,
after the clutter clears,
and then
even your memory
will be gone too.

Until I find another thing
that reminds me of you.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Sunday, August 17, 2014

(Out of) Focus

Broken, I was
in a thousand fifteen places.

Broken, then
in two hundred twenty-eight.

Broken, now am I
in ten plus seventeen.

And more—but why do I only see
the broken parts of me?


© 2014 Jennifer Wagner