Balboa

Photo © 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rescued from the pool filter,

Balboa had a scratch

on the house on his back.

 

We set him in the garden

between two rosemary shrubs

(Romero in Spanish, like my son’s name,

 

who said, keep him, Mom,

and let him be a burden to your

children’s children).

 

While we searched for what to do,

I thought we’d lost him

to heat, to bird—but there,

stamping the grass,

 

the champ!

A late-round come back!

And between my index and thumb

 

we rushed him

to the pond.

Two large turtles

 

rose to the surface

poking their heads out.

I said, we rescued your baby!

 

And hoped

someone

will do the same.

 

 

© 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

Gone but Not Forgotten

It was a baby boy.  I had him.  My movements were exact.  I checked myself in.  A door to a room, another door, a room.  There, amongst scraps of old, used fabric, in blues, and browns, and creams, soft, and good for quilt-making, he came.  My swaddled babe.  But I was alone, with babe in my arms, and out of the room, out the door, out of the room, out the door.  He never left with me.

 

© 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

Prose poem/description of a dream

I have dreams a few times a year in which I have a baby.  Sometimes I think they may have something to do with the ones I lost in miscarriages, though maybe the dreams symbolize something else altogether.  Of course, dreams can also just be dreams.  At any rate, they do always remind me how heroic it is to become a mother.  So, Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms reading this.  You are amazing.  

 

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