Like dropped white petals
in the Colonel’s yard,
lie wing bones
and feathers—
cat, coyote, or
desert skunk,
having taste for only
head and trunk.
But, no hint of scent
of the last night spent—basting
in the coo that ended in a coup.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
under the blacklight
they glow green
and grow still
sometimes they’re
tucked into a nook
like a lost doubloon
ready to sting like a curse
for one stolen
pieces of eight
sometimes they fall with a plump green thump
on the lawn burning white
in the moon’s light
sitting like plastic children’s rings
stuck into the green buttercream of supermarket
cupcakes near all hallows’ eve, harmless—
or like tonight, behind my eyes
while dreaming, a memory, a fog of gray-green
shadow moving scorpion-like,
not carrying enough venom
to kill,
but still—
© 2025 jennifer wagner
It’s more than a place,
it’s a calling—
where red hibiscus,
and pink, too,
blush the air with their kisses.
This old Spanish hotel,
a retreat among royal palms,
where Florence’s Alcove
calls poets back to their gurgling dreams
near carvings of animals
and fountains for black-throated sparrows.
It’s more than a respite, or retreat,
it’s an oasis shaded in the desert sun,
where little casitas dot storied stone pathways
—and just walking here
turns lion to lamb,
and my eyes—brown silk,
soft and lamplit,
as if in parallel realm,
cured of the madness
of a lesser world.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Combining the prompts from two of my most-admired poets.
Shay’s Word Garden Word List
Dora’s Poetics at dVerse: A View of One’s Own (I’m too late to link)
“El Vernadero” means “winter haven” and was the original name of the “Royal Palms” at the base of Camelback Mountain in Arizona. I live locally and visit it often—and feel as if I’m on vacation every time I do—even just walking the grounds. I could not love it more.
Photos © 2025 Jennifer Wagner