Pulse

 

After the departure

 

of winter,

 

of cara caras—

 

the arrival of white blossoms,

pollen, dusk moths,

bats diving for seconds.

 

After the departure

of my dark-mute-crash

in your absence—

 

the arrival of sweet,

prickly pear cactus,

green-purpling in tangelo sun.

 

After the departure

of cold,

of hibernation—

 

the arrival of migration,

your ready arms cloaking

the naked-bleed of me.

 

After the departure

of bleak season,

waning spirit—

 

the arrival of glittering sky

beyond palm bones—

and my ribboned heart

 

stitched whole

in the pulse

of your hand.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Shay’s Word Garden

Poetic Bloomings

no soul matador

 

 

i’m going to

keep my music light

today

 

no soul matador

trying to run me

out of my

sacred places

 

just a gentle

coaxing

 

of nakai’s flute

and the turquoise arizona

sky

 

where birds and scars

belong to the

wind

 

where i sit

and wait for

myself

 

to begin

again

 

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

 

“i...sit...and wait for myself” — Georgia O’Keeffe, from Roxana Robinson's biography of the artist

 

a poem for international women’s day

in a name

 

 

in the 70’s we were everywhere—a

white wave

 

of bell-bottoms, hot pants, platforms and disco

at night—

 

us, jennifers—meant to be, I suppose,

fair, soft—

 

but to that dirt-gravel half of my history, i’ve always been “gin” and i like how

that hits

 

how you say it with a lick of

your lips

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

 

At dVerse MTB: The Poetry of Names, Laura has us writing WaltMarie poems about the meaning or history of our names.  You can visit the link to learn more about this form and visit Writer’s Digest as well.

 

*smaller hand-held devices may not display this poem true to the ten-line format due to compacting