De(e)p-ression De-funk

I haven't thought

of hollyhocks

in quite some time,

nor roses.

Stone flowers

gray my landscape—hard,

the way the light isn’t light anymore,
but an intrusion, an offense,
to the dark soil of my seedling,

nursing safe, until color is ready to form,
replacing stone,

crumbling statues,

bleak memorials of times past,
headstones of a previous life—

to reach, to grow,

to topple them,

with leaves and stem

and oh, the most glorious bloom.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

The Great Stone Church 
Photo © 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Dear Misery,

I miss you.  I really do.

You were always there

ready to make merry,

happy as a shitfaced clown

on Saturday afternoon.

But back to niceties,

you played the fiddle

and I danced

to your tormented tune

like a

jilted wife

waiting for another truth.

Is that dancing?

Hell, yes.

You should see my shoes,

all tapped out, so to speak.

I love you.  Come back.

Though there’s nothing left here

for you except

a .22.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

My more sensitive readers may not appreciate my strong language in this one, and I hope I haven’t lost you, but sometimes, you have to get ugly when you’re fighting monsters…there’s beauty in it...