Arrested

 

On the menu:

chocolate cakes.

Two, to be exact.

One with espresso in the batter, one

without.

One apple cake, one apple crisp.

One chocolate chip banana bread.

 

I am making these,

which I do not eat.

 

Pretzel peanut butter cookies are next,

or your mom’s pistachio bundt,

or pumpkin spice cupcakes,

some with sprinkles, some

without.

 

I will probably not eat much of them either.

 

Strangely, I am baking as if they are

for repast post funeral, attempts

at forgetting your superpowers,

the ones that always weakened,

arrested me.

 

Still wanting you to hold me,

settling for within,

but

without.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

For The Word Garden Word List—Tomb Sweeping

Night In

 

It’s my favorite thing right now.

 

Cilantro leaves, Mexican crema,

one just-right creamy avocado,

zest of lime,

and juice, too.

 

Freshly-ground black pepper.

Salt, salt, salt.

 

Pulse, pulse, pulse

in the food processor—

and so, so smooth

 

on shrimp tacos, a cod fillet,

just to dip with a chip,

 

or each of our fingertips.

The pulse, pulse, pulse together

and salt, salt, salt

of us

 

in the desert;

jazz and sunset hues

seasoning us

 

in fiery orange, luscious pink,

and dreamy blues.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

Sanaa over at dVerse Poetics has us Exploring the Senses in Food Poetry (I’m too late for the link, but here’s my response).

 

Pacific Northwest

Green winter notes

in January

bleed into February--

scent of pine, lavender,

           honey in my tea.

We slice lemon,

bake salmon, peppery

and warm

           like you,

a wild, wild rose,

no hint of snow--

grow 'round my calves,

up my thighs,

hug my hips

a little tighter,

hold me

to spring.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

For Poetry Jam, Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, and dVerse OLN.

Jack O' Lantern Soup

Dancing squirrels

have taken note

of the pre-Thanksgiving

feast—

as windblown leaves,

soggy,

like fresh strips

of paper-mâché,

are stuck to everything

in sight—across our lawn, the path to our door.

I wonder, what would they think

if I sprinkled some Sriracha

or pepper-apple chutney

on top

of the jack o’ lantern soup

sitting

on our front porch,

rainwater

filling up

to the smile?

I prefer mine

with sour cream

and a little kick:

a half sandwich,

toasted

with lots

of pepperoncinis.

Do you think

they would mind

sharing

if I brought

and topped

it

with roasted

pepitas

and a caramelized pecan

or two?

I bet Beatrix would know.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse Poetics: Food for Thought

Note: I made pumpkin soup for the first time last year.  Soo good.