That Night in Cabo

Flies tried to stay cool, too

in the sweltering fisheye view

of Mariscos Mazatlan.

A little girl, a bloodshot hibiscus in her hair,

young men, brown shouldered in thin white tanks, and

the humming Spanish vernacular

making me tone deaf

with ringing, pounding

against my—

I don’t know what I felt more

the heat between my thighs

or your stare,

affecting nonchalance,

sipping ice water

sprinkled with a lime

meant for two.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Linking up to dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight!

Plastique

She keeps her freaks

tongue-in-cheek

by cheeky grin.

I listen,

not listening, again.

I am no novice, as may seem,

to pretty words in stunning hue

even if the eyes of which

are broken-marble blue.

There are no true heartbeats

in her Smashbox made up sheen,

and pseudo-Fendi bag of

tricks

when all she wants

is you.

And you,

and you,

and you.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Liebster Blog Award

Poet Chhavi Vatwani who writes at Sour Lemons and Tequila awarded me the Liebster Blog Award recently.  Some busy times around here with a house full of sickies and what not but I wanted to make mention and thank her for thinking of me and allowing me to accept honorarily—she is sweeter than Banoffee pie (her favorite, by the way).  Thank you Chhavi!

We Said

you said,

no one ever believed in you quite like me

you said,

you found the seashell as you ran on the beach

and kept it in your pocket

to give it to me

you said,

i made you want to lay down

on the tracks of a speeding locomotive

and beg for my love

i said,

yes

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Ian.  I was made to believe in you…15 years.  I still have the shell.

Fairy Tale, Ending

Brush my mind

with ticklings of innocence;

I’ve since passed them

sinking in the quicksand

of want;

disclosing destroyed

and heaving parts,

the remnants of ugliness

from connubial war.

Disgusted,

our most real selves

are painfully owning all of it, even

the gaps so richly fabled when it suited.

Cleverly cloaked

in our reckless game of moth-eaten promise;

the bearers of bad news

always held their tongue.  They all knew their fate,

when veracity

was so uncomely.

Solemn workers of the gallows have finally come

to set the masqueraders free.

It’s a ghastly job to examine the photo

pulled from the frame

when the lies were just so pretty.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Apparently I am indefinite article deficient.  I'm sorry if you read this post before I made the fix on the third to last line.  I'm going to blame it on the flu.  I'll be linking up at dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight tomorrow!

Date Night Kiss

forgotten

the car keys

and whose fault it was

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

haiku my heart 

Postcard 77

i had just turned six when

Elvis died

my mom with her long, dark hair

and my aunt, blonde and long too—

sat out on the steps

with their friends

and their short shorts, sobbing;

Tab and real Pepsi

in the bottle

Virginia Slims between the index

and middle

age

i watched,

barefoot in the warm shade;

topaz eyes full and wide,

little legs tan; and tendril-bleached,

umber hair, wild—

even i knew i wouldn’t  forget

where i was that day

when i heard

‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’

in the background

and cried too

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Sliding in to link up with the amazing poets at dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight.

revised 2.6.13

First Blush

mirrored

cherry lip gloss

in pale pink wish for spring

a light breeze bringing blossom thoughts

of you

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

My adapted offering for the Weekend Mini-challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads where Marian has challenged us to write a Cinquain; a form of poetry created by American poet Adelaide Crapsey.

Red-winged Blackbird's Funeral

Red-winged Blackbird, Wikimedia Commons

The sky played a trick,

impeding my flight—

dealing my doom.

The worm did not cry,

escaping to the depths

of a joyous homecoming.

Faces in the sky

of my sunset

held their breaths for me,

but brains

do not re-enter skulls;

and trash bags become funerary.

At least

I do not die alone

and without mourners.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Peggy’s prompt at Poetry Jam where the prompt is to write from the perspective of an animal.  This incident happened a couple of weeks ago.  A red-winged blackbird flew into our picture window so forcefully it could not recover.  The worm in its beak fell out and crawled away.  The bird, though so fatally wounded, struggled heartily. My boys were mostly fascinated by the scene and the science of it all.  But as the only female in a household of boys and men, it tore my heart a bit. 

Vamp

a murderous

winter passion

held its icy grip

on juicy melons,

mellow-rich

the blood

of raspberries

stained her fingertips

and mouth, lost

in strawberry sublime

found every drop

of juice

every seed

divine

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

  

My smoothie obsession/therapy continues...