medianoche en el valle del sol

 

the close of march—

the phoenix rose,

petals burning—

 

you caught them

with damp palms,

rubbed them lime-light

 

on my skin,

sipping salt

from the spoon

 

of my throat,

drunk

on the moonshine

 

margarita of spring

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

Desert Stardate

On the First of March,

the desert doesn’t know

it’s not even spring yet.

Summer tosses dandelions

through a hole in the sky.

 

With my face upturned,

I let them pelt me

with soft, moist tongues—

pollen making eye shadow,

powdery blush,

a soft dusting of body glitter.

 

With a strike of your hand

on my hip like a match,

we become a collision of stars,

a kilonova,

exploding, burnt.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Poetic Bloomings

the color of us

 

photo © jennifer wagner

let’s share this together,

valentine,

 

petals

more

than

deep blush

 

at your sip,

at my touch

 

see how

we’ve changed

the color

of us

 

yellow sunset to

crème de violette,

 

turn me

scarlet,

valentine

 

your elderflower,

my honey,

mix better

than wine—

 

let’s

take our time,

no rush,

 

moonblue to

citrus spice—

 

cool,

until touched,

 

see how

we’ve changed

the color

of us

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

 

a little mixology for my valentine (of 27 years!)

at dVerse “from your valentine”