Communion

Sun, sliced in half—

juice and pulp and seeds exposed

by knife blade.

 

A sip of citrus blood

sugars my tongue

and I toss the hull away.

 

My requirements for the day

met: I laugh, belly deep, I dance

inappropriately,

 

I drink this

forgiving sun

into my fraying bones

 

and forget the upset

apple cart where I’ve piled up

all my shame.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

Dora has us reimagining something familiar or habitual with our poems over at dVerse.

 

Blue Bird

 

The shell cage inside me

swings with a haunted bird,

eyes wide

mid-molting that never completes.

 

The cage door is open,

but what use is flying

when the sky is broken.

 

Can you hear the

humiliation, grief, and shame

in her song?

 

Job and God say,

beware your “friends.”

They pretend to be with you

but just want to fix you

 

when they should

break their own harps, their harmonicas,

smash their own guitars,

 

and just let her sing.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner