smashed fig leaves for tea on the table,
and collected plums—one three-quarter eaten,
white blossoms bowing half-mast
in a gleaming jade vase,
ironing board in the corner,
steam rising from the unplugged iron—
even an imagined whiff of perfume
of someone who’s just left the room—
my thoughts turn the page
and see
my parents
with their heads now bent with snow
and book a flight
home—
petals falling in three-quarter time—
like snow, like dust—
still life,
but collecting all the same
© 2026 jennifer wagner
Late for but inspired by Dora’s dVerse Poetics: Borrowing Bishop, with instructions to “dip your word-brush into Bishop’s poetic inkpot, as it were, consciously incorporating accuracy (detail), spontaneity (immediacy), and mystery (revelation)…”
image generated by me using substack image generator
