Emily (Hope Kicks)

hope

kicks

you

when you need it

if you must

cry

scream (it’s unfair)

swear (every word you can think of)

snot running,

mascara flowing

down your chin

allow it

for one hour

or one day

eat chocolate

eat the cake

the whole damn thing

pity party

like there’s no tomorrow

if that’s what it takes

and then

you get up       

Get      

Up

big girl

get off the floor

it won’t let you stay there

hope

kicks

you

when you need it

reminds you

it is the thing

with feathers

and wings that sing

your truth to you

when you’ve forgotten

how to fly        

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Inspired by my all time favorite poem by Emily Dickinson, “Hope” is the thing with feathers.

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.  

Mud Blossom

she washed herself

clean

in the dirty river—

sinking down

into

muddy banks,

covering herself

and the tar that lives

and thrives

raging

within her skin

emptied

the tree of herself—

leaves and

petals

flowing

buried

in layers

where dead things

find purpose

and nourish

the ground

lush with

undiscovered gold

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Proximal

she hears it

thud

within her heart

darkening that softly whispered thing

he’d wept at her feet

squeezing his chest

begging her

to come back

where he could have her, love her

but, snow white

and glistening,

she congeals in

the rush of blood—

cheeks heated, flushed

and damp

spent where he

could never bring her back,

hold her into it long enough

to let it sink

into her skin,

her fluids,

her flesh and bones

holding her, hard

and pushing love into

that bruised place

she cries

every time he touches

forged with passion

sought with tears

a groove never deep enough

to reach the watercourse

and dangles

not siphoned,

a conduit,

clamped

as she turns away

too close

to feel it anymore

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Posting to The Poetry Pantry at Poets United