Spring Break Up

 

Odilon Redon, Spring, circa 1910

 

Last night,

grief held my body

in deep soreness

underneath my roughened, toughened skin.

 

I lay awake, fearing to cry out

and uncork the bottle of my sorrows,

fearing the sound would

resemble new violin students

playing wretchedly and mercilessly,

and for too long.

 

Instead,

I listened for the birds,

like the chatter of children,

their rich, shattering joy

breaking silence with song.

 

 

© 2026 Jennifer Wagner

 

dVerse oln

Fault, Lines

 

You understood

nothing

except the piece

of yourself

you tore out of us

and tossed at the fault line

beating like a heart.

 

I built this poem

around the jagged wound,

refired in the kiln of a sun

who heard my

silent bleeding

and wept aloud

for the breaking you had done.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

dVerse Poetics: Building from the Broken