Turning White, 1888

 

They say one becomes euphoric

just before death.

 

It was January, but

the flowerboxes were filling

too quickly with snow.

 

And Mama, at home in her armchair,

can only grab her chest,

wring her hands,

 

fearing delivery

of her cherished child

in reverse,

 

with not a lick euphoric enough

to console the freezing of her heart.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

For the amazing Shay’s Word Garden Word List:  Spill Simmer Falter Wither

 

I recently read, and took inspiration from, Ted Kooser’s book, The Blizzard Voices, which is a book of short poems based on the experiences of people living in the Great Plains during what’s known as the Children’s Blizzard of 1888.  Sadly, many children were lost trying to get home from school during the surprise storm.  My mom is from Nebraska and says they were taught about it as part of state history.  After reading about it, I dreamt of a school teacher who saved her pupils by sticking them together with Grey Poupon and marshmallows.  I can’t explain it; dreams are weird, but that is another poem. 

 

NPM Day 11

Reemerging

Every autumn—

apples in a bowl on the table.

Every winter—oranges.

 

Fresh, like this morning’s sun

spilling over

hot air balloons

hanging like pendulums

 

the way hummingbirds hover

over the lantanas

tormenting the cat

watching from the back door.

 

Every spring—

white blossoms in the bowl of your hand.

Every summer—rosa pie.

 

And yesterdays,

scattered like pistachio shells

littering the ground

like stones thrown

at no one

 

into the dark garden

of memory—

where all our scars

are hidden,

 

like cicadas,

finally settled

under the twinkling of stars,

 

but

silent

only for a while.

 

 

© 2023 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

Note: rosa pie is a reference to the artisan Rosa Pizza (red onion, Parmigiano Reggiano, rosemary, pistachios) at Pizzeria Bianco.