Honeymoon, Cabo San Lucas, 1998

 

ghost crabs scurrying on the beach at night

 

our umbrella being stolen while we were snorkeling on Tortuga Beach

the tide, too, (almost) stealing our lunch

 

replacing the Cokes in the hotel fridge so we wouldn’t get charged

 

the glass bottom boat seasick tour, one yellow fish

 

our sunburns

 

our wild ride up the coast

in the convertible bug

 

the best Italian food (whodathunkit)

 

the wild burro nodding sleepily

 

the photo of our feet at the pool

my ring

and the silver and onyx bracelet I still wear

 

The Hotel California, or at least the sign for it

 

pink champagne on ice (actually, margaritas)

dancing in the courtyard (actually, evading the police)

 

checking out and

never leaving—

 

coming up on the 27^th lovesick tour with you (whodathunk that, too)

 

us, ghost crabs, scurrying on the beach,

still evading the police (when we have to!)

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

a list poem for poem-a-day 25: write a memory poem

 

The Wake (Break) Up

 

The severed heads

of roosters

littered the drive,

the yard.

 

We walked round them

unsure of what we’d missed—

 

some comic scene unfolding,

a drama

with cello music playing,

 

Hitchcock

standing

in silhouette.

 

I suppose I should

never have been

fooled,

 

but what did I know

of gallows?

 

There was fading light

in the lamps, and I was

distracted by

 

the pleasure

of softening together

like butter in the pan.

 

Really,

what did I know

 

of hatchets

in the shed

still warm with blood,

 

holding your hand

like a miracle

 

trying to avoid

the inevitable

slaughter at dawn?

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

The Word Garden Word List

 

Fuliginosity

That April of the fall

it was already the burning season;

petal-damp tulips lined

the bent road, curving west.

We donned the camouflaged windbreaker

of nomads, who have nothing but each other—

dashed from rock to rock along the river’s edge

watching flames lick the surface, catching fire

to ferns and evergreens,

and burning down the barns and silos

behind us.

We ran from it, singed, to each other,

knowing together

we’d be able to save us

and our crumpled matchbook hearts

tossed somewhere in the

ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk

of old tracks, trained so many

miles long.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner