Fellowship of the Glistening Cow

 

More than annoyed,

politely furious, and suffering

from PTSD,

I was elegantly unhinged.

 

I slipped on my Levi’s,

buttoned my white silk shirt

and strode out of cuckooville.

 

Sometimes I wish I’d lost it,

let them have it,

emptied the six-shooter.

 

But, I’m glad I didn’t.

Such types don’t need my help,

they go down on their own.

Plus, I thought, these are good boots,

who needs the mess?

 

I donned my Stetson,

left my name by the door in pencil,

grinding in the tip.

 

See it there?

It doesn’t say

puppet, robot, hostage.

 

Erase it

if you want to.

You’ll have to dig out the lead,

 

listening to your library of so-wrongs

singing its own music

on that player piano,

 

sounding like

a polar bear clawing

thin ice.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

For the List at the Word Garden

Leap

 

When faced with the plank,

I feared the sea.

 

I shouldn’t have.

The dark waters have always borne me

like God’s own hand.

 

Breathing petrified air

for far too long,

I’d neglected the glide

and swift flip

 

I’d learned

birthed at the milk side

of deep monsters who’d cradled

the calfling me.

 

Kohl running,

half-burned candle

ripped from my hand,

arms and legs bound,

I braved the ship’s side.

 

Pirates snarled insults

with teeth missing,

and legs, from the knee.

But what did they know

of my means,

 

their jealous hands yielding

the treasures of scurvy

and bitter gangrene?

 

No push needed, I jumped—

fear on their scarred visages,

gaping, cursing me

and their luck,

 

with every tie being unstrung

in the sparrow-filled wind.

 

 

© 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

What is the price of two sparrows—one copper coin? But not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it.   And the very hairs on your head are all numbered.   So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows. Matthew 10:29-31

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me. ~ Civilla D. Martin, 1905