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My eyes are
little lanterns
for you, owl.
Flutter by,
incandescent,
like a dream.
Swoop wild,
speak golden, giddy
enchantment—
be not
absent your
darker charms.
Stir that deep cello
in me—
that storm of music
reverberating
whenever
you brush by—
my pulse quick,
a mouse
to pounce—
swoop wild, swoop
to me,
your prey.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
It rained that Sunday
like riot in the streets
after midnight.
It was hellish,
but still I wrote you love letters,
drowning—
sewing up problems
I didn’t yet know I had
into poems.
They were numbered
and in-
famous.
Remember how
you tore them with your teeth,
like cotton candy,
melting
the sugar of me
funneling the storm drain?
Sundays are better now,
but December rain
is a trance
between fall
and spring—
the stuff of smoke and legend
like books burning
with enormous heat,
as a poet girl dishes—
not instantly,
but fat and sizzling—
crammed
frozen into blue
Rorschach inkblots
on winter’s lonely, cutting, bony page.
Shay's Word Garden Word List: The Prodigy
My first attempt at using all the given words, with a couple variants.
you ask me to
and i don’t know how to answer
i want to
know
what it’s like to stay
now
so much
in that look
my cells
multiplying
like time-lapse
photosynthesis
curling myself
around that
one
word
as if
light