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where you last swept me
off my feet
your breath
fanning me tender, fanning me light
drowsy as my fingers linger
tracing your smile
the throb of promise
at sunrise
on the rose of my lips
holds memory of the curve of your kiss
© 2025 jennifer wagner
dverse quadrille: a poem of precisely 44 words including the word “sunrise”
tlaquepaque stairway photo © 2025 jennifer wagner
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Photo © 2023 Jennifer Wagner |
My second favorite color
is explosive
and luscious.
I don’t know if I like
the dirt it leaves
on my shoes.
I’m torn.
It means I’ve walked
through it
and lived to tell
but the chili powder heat
is a hell
all its own.
Hesperidium marmalade,
sandstone, cider, spice
against a spotty blue leopard sky.
Sigh.
My palms turn sepia from the reach,
and though the beauty is a beast,
I know it was always meant
to be a part of me,
like a blazing sun,
like love,
because
my skin sings
even while it burns.
© 2023 Jennifer Wagner
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Photo © 2023 Jennifer Wagner |