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

 

Now & Then

 

 

Now, the streets are worn and cobbled,

but among them I still hover, hobble—

survivor of the fate, the madness, of the war.

 

Then, it was otherworldly,

that Italian sketchbook summer,

flesh-flushed out in lush, romantic watercolor form.

 

Then, we walked

through wildflowers,

caught our dresses on the hands of orchids,

bridged the brushsong birdsong,

daisies threaded in our hair.

 

Now, that page has turned,

but I return to the art of tenderness alone—

stumbling, trying still

to catch our spirits’ crash

before the fall broke us to stone.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Shay’s Word Garden Word List: Tenderness

dVerse Poetics: Fated, OLN

Day 24 NPM

 

This Poem Is in Disguise

 

This poem is a bowl of cereal

with mostly milk left inside.

 

This poem smells like sweaty socks.

 

This poem learned how to ride a bike,

pick up a pen, how to read a story,

make scrambled eggs.

 

This poem dented the car with aforementioned bike.

 

This poem broke the upstairs window

with an arrow.

 

This poem left marks on the wall.

 

This poem knows how to shave,

leaves clippings in the sink,

and sometimes wears a beard.

 

This poem still rests its head on my knees.

 

This poem is a bowl of cereal

with mostly milk left inside.

 

This poem sits on the table

making a ring

around my heart.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Inspired by Sherry’s prompt at What’s Going On?  My poem is inspired by the Boomerang Metaphor form she references but does not adhere to its rules.

Day 23 of NPM