I’ve always been a Mustang girl,
but this—
cherry red
and just my size,
caught my eye,
turned my head, full throttle.
Oh, little red
prince,
you’re a sweet-tooth-ache
parked sugar daddy, solid, timeless—
and I’m still young and free
and cruise-ready
to coddle.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Photo © 2025 Jennifer Wagner
dVerse Quadrille 227: a poem of exactly 44 words including some form of the word “turn”
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Photo © Jennifer Wagner |
I loved red long before Sammy sang of it,
my hair turning back to it,
sign and signal, siren rang of it.
Old brick station, ladder truck and engine,
your beard, my lips, leather jacket tassel tips,
’65 Mustang, candy apple red.
Blushing secret, unwrapped,
sugared red to pink. The sink
into red-petaled, satin, Valentine sheets.
Glass of cabernet, raspberry to plum,
Burt’s Bees Hibiscus Balm.
Autumn leaves, rubies.
Terra-cotta, sandstone,
sweet tomato bliss,
my broken favorite mug, blood,
and afterward, the kiss.