Sunday, June 17, 2012

Eleven at Tulalip

Me, the flightless bird

Soaring in your wildblue


With mysteries


Bathing in moonlight as

The fingers of night


Through ribbons of me


Sweet, your mouth,

My tears on your lips,


So much so I wished to never end them


Me, the flightless bird

Now securely


In the cove on the mountain I didn’t think I could climb



Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Seattle Spring

all day long
  violets in the rain
  bleed hello

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner


my sick sister
her contagious

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Grazie, Sue Bell

bluesy jazz singer
amid the bar chatter
i drink the notes

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Monday, June 11, 2012

You Always Pick the Worst Apples

You always pick the worst apples, 

she chided him, all bruised!

They are still sweet in some spots—

sweeter even than others without them, he said.

And then she wondered if that’s why he’d picked her.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Sunday, June 10, 2012


misplaced jewels—
that little restaurant we found,
and why we loved each other

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Little Cowgirl

little cowgirl
on grandpa’s horse
ten             feet            tall

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Becoming Clay

Becoming Clay
Stacked upon the shelf,
my emotions, spent and raw.
Dark are they now,
and bland—
I cannot feel anymore.

Whispers of my soul
lay broken in a mess I cannot fix myself.
If I were to blow a final deep, aching breath
the shards would fly away like dust.

A single tear slides down my cheek,
like a match across my heart,
reminding me to feel—
reminding me of what I cannot lose.

It falls to the ground
reaching the dust of my brokenness.
And in the silence,
hands caked with the mud of humanity
reach for me,
His grip unafraid of the cold reality of what I am.

A low, loving murmur breaks the dead air,
a voice confident and sure,
"Now I have something to work with."

Copyright 2005 Jennifer Wagner

Monday, June 4, 2012

Corvus Observation

the black crow
endlessly wandering
finds home

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, May 29, 2012



White sails calmly sifting through a cerulean sea
A storm is coming, though powder blue skies are mum
Edging out the tranquil scene, comes a darkness

Passengers sleepy, lulled by the gentle breeze and even gentler wave
A storm is coming, its breath caught while attempting to speak
And the warming sun coaxes dreamers into respite

Unsteady hold or certainty begins the test
A storm is coming, preparers beware
Holding the light may be all you can do

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner 
Shared with Poets United Poetry Pantry