embalmed

always, love—

like piperita,

you

 

are the dream

i keep

pressed between

 

my teeth and tongue—

the balm

i breathe

 

 

© 2026 jennifer wagner

 

dVerse poetics

 

photo © jennifer wagner, a mural at the roro, phoenix, az

 

(an early valentine)

 

still life/magazine cover

 

smashed fig leaves for tea on the table,

and collected plums—one three-quarter eaten,

 

white blossoms bowing half-mast

in a gleaming jade vase,

 

ironing board in the corner,

steam rising from the unplugged iron—

 

even an imagined whiff of perfume

of someone who’s just left the room—

 

my thoughts turn the page

and see

 

my parents

with their heads now bent with snow

 

and book a flight

home—

 

petals falling in three-quarter time—

like snow, like dust—

 

still life,

but collecting all the same

 

 

© 2026 jennifer wagner

  

Late for but inspired by Dora’s dVerse Poetics: Borrowing Bishop, with instructions to “dip your word-brush into Bishop’s poetic inkpot, as it were, consciously incorporating accuracy (detail), spontaneity (immediacy), and mystery (revelation)…”

 

dVerse oln #400

 

image generated by me using substack image generator 

john

he always had a smile for me

whenever I asked him

how he was—

 

he’d say, i’m alright, it’s the world

that’s all wrong

with that teasing glint in his eye

 

you’re right, john, sure—

but it was a little right, too—

knowing you

 

 

© 2026 jennifer wagner

 

dVerse q44: smile

 

In memory of my neighbor John (January 29, 1942 - September 2, 2024).

 

it's (still) a wonderful life

 

a heavy garland of sorrow

releases from

my winter-ragged bones

 

sitting on this ginger-crumb beach,

dipping my sugared toes,

letting the water wreath

 

around my ankles

icicle clear—it’s here,

on holiday i hibernate,

 

and marshmallow-float

the weight, and gift,

of all this wonderland

 

 

© 2025 jennifer wagner

 

dVerse Q: hibernate

 

Ghostpane Tableau

 

photo © jennifer wagner

Handprints, a nose print,

on the frost-filled pane.

A ghost? Of Christmas

past? A loved-one there

looking in at hearth

ablaze and home sweet

 

home.  Golden light on

tinseled tree.  Bows in

red and green.  Gifts of

winter mirth and love’s

soft-mittened hand in

savored memories.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

MTB: Tableau Poem