Estrellas

 

Photo © Jennifer Wagner

 

Chuparosas sip from the cups

of orange-red ocotillo blooms,

 

the sky waves fresh gold dust

and the desert’s perfume

 

rises with spring

cracking open every new thing—

 

even as something old,

something blue, hangs between us

 

stitched darkly like threads

around a once-golden sun.

 

But I’ve long stopped wishing

for nothing blue.

 

Without night, I’d miss the stars.

Without the needle, there’d be no quilt.

 

Without seeing in a different light,

I’d miss the sharp beauty produced by thorns.

 

 

© 2026 Jennifer Wagner

 

dVerse Poetics: Something Borrowed, Something Blue

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