Swallowed up
in the belly of my bones,
a shy sweetheart, guarded.
Swallowed up
in the belly of my heart,
a promised ark, departed.
Swallowed up
in the belly of the storm,
where it started.
Swallowed up
in the belly of a hawk,
hope, disregarded.
Swallowed up
in the belly of a crow,
the dream, a shell, discarded.
Lilies sprout,
butterflies rise up from their petals.
A new blade appears,
shining in the dirt,
flint sharp.
The beautiful things
aren’t dead,
one says.
True, echoes another.
Did I hear that right?
But all I’m met with
are bright, cherubic smiles
thrown over their shoulders
one after the other.
I take their meaning.
Jump fences, barbed wire,
float on dreams
left swirling up from the dust
on the trail.
Switchblade the lasso from your wings,
dig those boot heels in, girl,
fly.
For Dora’s prompt at dVerse Poetics
A dozen plump oranges were hanging from the tree.
A dozen plump spiders had encircled each one
with a dozen white webs.
Kitty tried to bat one away
but it just crawled toward the couch
and back again.
You sprayed them with water
but the fruit couldn’t be saved.
Except by me waking up.
Which I did,
and killed them
the only way I know how.
© 2023 Jennifer Wagner