The last emerald summer
popped hot in the pan—
buttery, like sweet corn and tomatoes,
like the last sultry twilight
I spent waiting for your heart to choose.
Even when the first leaves fell,
my eyes were on the evergreens
still convinced it would never snow.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Poetic Bloomings #547 Meant to Last
The Poet’s Garden
is lit with black fire, melancholy,
and a brushstroke break
turning lover’s faces to ash.
Just ask le fou roux
or the gold dust woman.
Remember Rumours?
Maybe we love it because in our own ways
we’ve lived it, too—as if our own heartwrecks
had been written like birdsong
sounding so good
we want to cut off our own ear
to keep it
safe from another’s melody—
or to present it,
bound and bloody, to a lover as a reminder
never to forget the whispering
of blue firs
hanging like shadows—
and fleeting, like the holding of hands,
before we stopped dreaming
of tomorrow.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
NaPoWriMo Day 29: write a poem inspired by the life of a musician, poet, or other artist. I’ve written a mash-up inspired by Stevie Nicks and Vincent Van Gogh.
dVerse Poetics: Getting Hooked on Opening Lines
The Poet’s Garden (Public Garden with Couple and Blue Fir Tree) was painted by Van Gogh in 1888. Photo © Jennifer Wagner from my copy of Essential Van Gogh.
In 2020, Rolling Stone ranked Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours album number seven of the 500 greatest of all time.
“Le Fou Roux” (The Redheaded Madman) was a nickname given to Vincent Van Gogh by the townspeople of Arles.
“Gold Dust Woman” is the title of a song from the Rumours album as well as the title of a biography of Stevie Nicks.
After the departure
of winter,
of cara caras—
the arrival of white blossoms,
pollen, dusk moths,
bats diving for seconds.
After the departure
of my dark-mute-crash
in your absence—
the arrival of sweet,
prickly pear cactus,
green-purpling in tangelo sun.
After the departure
of cold,
of hibernation—
the arrival of migration,
your ready arms cloaking
the naked-bleed of me.
After the departure
of bleak season,
waning spirit—
the arrival of glittering sky
beyond palm bones—
and my ribboned heart
stitched whole
in the pulse
of your hand.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner