Balm (A Butterfly Cinquain)

Photo © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Speak soft-

petaled twilight

against my shoulders, tanned

and salty, from a day rippling

with sun.

Envelop me, with your mouth, cool

with mint and cucumber,

our purpling kiss,

perfumed.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse OpenLinkNight

That Night in Cabo

Flies tried to stay cool, too

in the sweltering fisheye view

of Mariscos Mazatlan.

A little girl, a bloodshot hibiscus in her hair,

young men, brown shouldered in thin white tanks, and

the humming Spanish vernacular

making me tone deaf

with ringing, pounding

against my—

I don’t know what I felt more

the heat between my thighs

or your stare,

affecting nonchalance,

sipping ice water

sprinkled with a lime

meant for two.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Linking up to dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight!

First Blush

mirrored

cherry lip gloss

in pale pink wish for spring

a light breeze bringing blossom thoughts

of you

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

My adapted offering for the Weekend Mini-challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where Marian has challenged us to write a Cinquain; a form of poetry created by American poet Adelaide Crapsey.

Slough

i wish to

shed this skin

of pain

of discontent

like a clinging, wrinkled

dress

crumpled

rolled around in

and pulled—

s  c  r  a  p  e  d

o  f  f

w

  i

g

  g

l

  e

d

out of

twisted

at my ankles

and dropped

like my

eyelids—

to drool into

the hair

of your chest

the pads

of your fingers

in that place

in the groove

of my back

hearing

no voices

and feeling

only

the breath

of your hungry mouth

satisfied

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

I'll be linking to dVerse with the amazing poets who gather there for OpenLinkNight.  

Firegold

dusk

is a notion

of half-closed lids

in yellow flicks

of candlelight

against your bluegreen eyes

where

despite or because of

that lonely space between us

you pull me into

it

reaching for that tender

part you save for me

until i believe

i am the jewel

upon your hand

you always say i am

and melt like gold

in your palms

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

The Poetry Pantry

75

I see them

most every week

when I’m driving.

The little man

with his little wife

going for their afternoon stroll

on the sidewalk

in our neighborhood,

holding hands.

They must be 75

years old, at least, and

his leg is bad—

the knee, I think.

His other hand

holds a cane,

but he doesn’t use it—holds it

parallel to the ground. 

Just in case.

And she,

with her opposing hand,

carries an umbrella,

unopened. 

It is Seattle, you know,

better to be prepared. 

Just in case.

I love this scene,

supporting each other,

ready in case of stumbling,

ready in case the rain comes.

They’ve been blessed

to have weathered

life together—so long.

I imagine that will be us.

I know one day

I will see only one of them

going on that walk…

Then I picture you,

tomorrow, in your bunker gear,

and rush home

to kiss you

until we’re 75, 

at least.

Just in case.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

dVerse: Characters  Nonfiction

Composing

through table legs

painted toenails coquet

the edge of denim

lemon, sea salt

and baby arugula

eaten with fingertips

candlelight flutter

a catch in her breath

traced in his own

sicilian jazz

the subtle intensity

composing their story

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Linked to haiku my heart forever

Chelan Haiku

sunrise

on the vineyard

the bees smell sweet

blue dragonflies

tango above

the lake in sea green

white birch night

the heady scent of you

in bent ryegrass

  

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner  

Linked to Poets United #109 Poetry Pantry