Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Poet's Pen Strokes


She was born
with a bottle
of blue darkness
inside her.

When the light
the glass,
shafts of light

the container,

the darkness
inky arms,

stretching through,
reaching out/into
she is, she's been, has yet to see

and exits
on pages

needing both dark and light
to come
to be.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Friday, January 15, 2016

Fields of Remembrance

Cut corn stalks in the wind” video by Maria Wulf at Full Moon Fiber Art

The howling of the wolves,
the empty stalks,
this is home now.

Remember when we had it all,
before the burning, the chafing,
the emptying?

I won't cry, though;

tonight, a full moon
reveals the sickle-swept rows
we hid between,

and our ghosts laughing
and playing,

reflecting us
as we always should have been.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

For Artistic Interpretations at IGWRT, featuring artist Maria Wulf. 

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Fruit Bat

Grapes, mangoes,
sweet satsumas,
Apples, red.

My son loves fruit
and drinks only water.

We've called him Fruit Bat
since he was 2. He owns it,
with swagger.

Bats:  the only mammal to fly.
I hope he always does that, too.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

This Side of Heaven

My son's crutches
leave double circles
on the wood floor,

marks that show
where he's been,

sometimes stuck,
suctioned for a moment,
to one place.

He moves on, though,

like we do,
leaving part of us
on the distances
we've traveled.

But what of
these wounds, so old
they should have
healed by now?

We continue,
cracked and crumbling,
accepting fractured roads
bearing us up

and all the scars
we're made of.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner