Complementary

 

This poem is about purple,

and teal,

and lemon meringue pie—

 

about sage green

and chicken, spatchcocked,

and grilled.

 

This poem is about wrapping myself

in a silk-slick black robe, disappearing into midnight,

being seen.

 

It’s about color—

and taste,

and smell,

and feel,

 

and things that just make sense

when they don’t.

 

Like when

and how quickly

we made ourselves one.

 

How it all could have been undone.

How we could have been

undone.

 

But contrast,

and tang,

and memory touch,

 

and savory savoring—

holding on

when it hurt so much—

 

saved us

from us.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

dVerse oln

 

Mountain Music

 

 

When, not if, the trail leads me

to face the rocky Baboquivari

looming with the threat of jaguars and rattlesnakes,

 

at least it gives the promise

of Mexican Frankincense

in the burning Sonoran heat.

 

The taunt retreats,

and for a moment,

is a courting lover

 

blowing an arid, piney kiss

from a ribbon of birds whistling

in trees near the narrowing peak.

 

These are no mere trifles.  But welcome sugar. 

Welcome, sweet.  And though the bitter

may not be made quite golden, I’m thankful

 

God made it so that if the mountain doesn’t move,

and I’m going to have to climb that thing,

at least it sings.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Word Garden Word List

dVerse Poetics:  Personifying the Abstract

(life & challenges/trials)