clouded leopard

image:  wikimedia commons

at the zoo

for me

there is only

the clouded leopard

pacing

its fishbowl cage.

her sad eyes,

her muscles, taut—

excruciating

to be on display.

now, this isn’t popular

or proper.

come on, baby.

let us see you,

exploit you,

measure you.

we’ll feed you, promise.

you don’t want to be gregarious?

on facebook?

you must have your head

and spots examined.

there’s a reason

she climbs,

the best at it of her kind—

she’s designed to be

reclusive.

by day

she wants to rest

among the trees

and hunt at night,

elusive.

hidden

she keeps her pelt and cubs

and her sanity.

break the glass

and let her out, let her out—

she’s me.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Linking with other poets at Poets United:  The Poetry Pantry this weekend.

whispers

if only

they all were nuzzles

on the neck,

sweet nothings

at the lobe and ridge—

that none

were the black tar kind/unkind

to speaker

and hearer both—

like virus

from the vector’s mouth

if only

the cure could spread

as fast as the disease.

up to you and me?

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

for dVerse OLN

Dreams and Poems and Relativity

Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn, image via The Mag 208

Asleep

in time’s elbow,

drifting toward

Escher’s labyrinth

the joint bends

toward

the dark,

toward

the light,

I follow

hoping

neither burn me,

knowing

they already have.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Magpie Tales

*reference to M.C. Escher, Impossible Constructions

Catching Foxes

Hedge the rows

where the birdnote grows,

lark a tune

‘neath the fiddlehead moon,

                             

tip the wine glass,

burn the firegrass,

bellow and croak

at the midnight stroke,

thatch the stormroof,

squall and rainproofed—

and all the other

rhymes and metaphors

it takes to build and protect

something worth something.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

*title taken from Song of Solomon 2:15

sharing with dVerse at OLN

Cute

i don’t want to be cute!

i hate being adorable!

when you want to

have muscles

and body hair

and drive a car

this is,

to a boy of six

with three older brothers—

a curse.

the curse of cuteness.

ok,

what do you

want to be?

with no hesitation,

all gumption and flash,

the reply: 

scary!

i laugh, and quickly try to stifle it—

because he really means it

and

because

i do

get what he’s saying—

he wants to be taken seriously

around here,

a mustachioed man/ninja/t-rex

to be reckoned with,

even if i do still help him

to put on his belt

and slick down the cowlick

on the back of his head.

i nod,

as somber and intent

as if i am making

a most grave and

solemn vow.

but

just between you and me—

he’s still so cute

it’s scary.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

shared at poets united poetry pantry

it may not be wildstyle graffiti but…

photo © 2014 jennifer wagner

maybe it’s both

criminal

and an art

the way you scribbled

and scratched

past my walls

with your heart

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Poets United Midweek Motif:  Heart.

Photo:  My hubby tried his hand at some love proclamation graffiti—inside our house -ha.  We’re painting the interior walls this week.

*Wildstyle graffiti is a complicated and intricate form of graffiti.

P.S. J hearts I too.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Haiku Chocolate

lunchtime, snow falls

as we leave the restaurant,

i put my arm through yours

and catch a flake on my tongue

the rich scent of smoking salmon

is carried on the cold, salt air,

as if it were on the ashes

of long-ago village fires

dotting the shore behind us

just a few blocks up from the landing,

and a stroll through the courtyard

past northwest carvings of

lighthouses, natives—

to the red cup café and the perfect cup—

and on to mukilteo chocolate co. for dessert

you pull the door open, and i say

“what do you think i should i get?”

you smile—suggestive,

“you can get whatever you want”

over the counter the owner

overhears, teases— “that’s dangerous

to tell a woman in a chocolate shop”

a seated man hears, too “…or smart”

he’s right, we all laugh—together,

strangers in a shared moment

“well, i have to get the haiku”

dark chocolate, ginger,

hint of wasabi, candied ginger on top—

“i just made triple wasabi,

it’s in the back, i can get you some…”

“no thanks, i’ll go easy and try this first”

we select some amazing flavors,

sip coffee, look out at the view of the sound,

savoring them, and each other

and all the little things that become

the best kind of poetry

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Claudia at dVerse has us writing sketchbook poetry.  As she puts it, “poetry that captures a scene — poetry that is immediate and in the moment.”  With my husband’s schedule and the kids off at school we get to take dates midweek, midday sometimes.  It snowed briefly as we left one of our favorite places on Tuesday and it seemed the perfect moment to capture on paper.  And yes, Haiku Chocolate Truffle is delicious!

Sexploitica

I cue moonlight,

light tealights,

trail petals

to my heart,

but you,

pornblind and hooked,

don’t even know

where to start.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Pornography addiction, especially via the internet, is a relationship killer.  If you or someone you know is struggling, there is help.  Lots of resources out there, Celebrate Recovery and Pure Desire among them.

XII: The Beaufort Wind Force Scale

oh, you know it’s real.  my neighbor’s window. 

photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Twelve basic hues

in the color wheel.

Twelve steps

in recovery.

Twelve inches

in a foot.

Twelve people

on the moon.

Twelve baskets

of fragments.

Twelve days

of Christmas.

Twelve tribes.

Twelve disciples.

Twelve months.

A dozen.

And it’s also

the maximum

wind speed

of a hurricane,

again!

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Seahawks and the power of the 12th man win Super Bowl XLVIII!  Check it out:  12th Night: Number Featured in Win.