There I was in black velvet,
stitched with fluorescent thread—
a trellis for thirteen roses,
dying but not dead.
Just a sprite under your blacklight,
learning moonlight is a lie—
escaping from your elf-owl-moonhowl
gaze of promise pantomimed.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Day 19 of National Poetry Month
Elf owls are nocturnal predators and are the world’s smallest raptor. Males make a yapping noise like a puppy to attract a mate.
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Last night I dreamt about scorpions,
my ex,
a diner,
and a dingy motel.
And being on the run.
I sipped mediocre coffee,
slipped into my best jeans, tight as a tattoo,
bundled up my few belongings
and hit the road—
blue-legged and quick.
There I was cooing,
belly full of scorpion meat,
picking up the sun, shotgun,
for a lift,
—the pair of us,
wily coyotes with a (sometimes) bad rap, but
thriving,
like O’Keeffe,
escaping into the southwestern
desert heat.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Today over at NaPoWriMo (Day 2), the work of Georgia O’Keeffe is mentioned along with an optional prompt. I recently read Roxana Robinson’s biography of O’Keeffe which was excellent—I highly recommend it. Many know O’Keeffe moved to the Santa Fe area where she created some of her most iconic work, and since I’m also a transplant to the southwest (Arizona), this poem is where the muse lead. Also, I did actually have this dream last night.
I recently visited the fabulous Ted DeGrazia Gallery in the Sun Museum in Tucson. I took the above mediocre photo there.
Roadrunners don’t actually have blue legs (more gray/brown), but they do eat scorpions.
What’s Going On? (Open Link)
PAD Day 2 (loosely for "from where I'm sitting")