Fatigue

On the shower wall

this morning

I saw

a baby chick, mouth open.

On the other,

the curve of a question mark

without the dot.

I'm growing my hair out;

loose, wet strands land in shapes

of my own mind's making.

But you

may have seen something else

instead of these

unfinished questions,

answers not yet forming,

and time

turning

the water cold.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

8

Photo © 2015 Jennifer Wagner

If smiles light up rooms,

yours lights up a thousand

rooms in my heart-dark-need

for such a beacon.

Yours, my own little

prince of peace.

Yours, my own little

light of the world.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

After Suicide

He still goes over to his house,
sits in his room,
says a lifetime of goodbyes to ashes
--what's left
when the oxygen of hope thins,
choked out by the rasping fire-of-lies
believed at just-turned twenty.


Remembering often in stories,
as the living do
of the dead--
he laughs,
cries,
swears,
breaks, bitterly.


And when reads to me what he writes,
how it is to lose a brother,
memorializing what was,
he ends it
the only way he can.


You don’t know what you’ve done to me.



© 2015 Jennifer Wagner


At the end of August my son's best friend since he was 11 years old committed suicide at the age of 20. A crater-sized hole has been created, and though I know it is a pain that will remain for the rest of his life, I pray for it to lessen for him and for all those who loved Baily. He is greatly missed.

Prince

Prince and me, circa 1977

He was puffy and fluffy

and rarely barked.

I was in the car

that ran over him

the night he died. Six years old

and sitting in the backseat

between my mom and Shirley

as we headed out for dinner. Louie’s Chinese.

Shirley’s husband, Harry,

was the driver. A sweet, adorable man.

A diabetic whose foot later developed gangrene.

He felt terrible, of course.

I felt indescribable.

How do you say

how you feel,

your first prince’s yelps

stinging everything?

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

A Moment at Twilight

This poem may not hold up

to the elements,

in fact it may

float away with the cherry blossoms,

bleed away with the swell of the sea,

wash away with the rain.

But I wrote it

and you read it

and for the moment

that is enough.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

I began this poetry blogging journey three years ago in May and it has been a most enjoyable experience. I have enjoyed the work of many talented poets, writers, photographers, and artists of many types and I am grateful to you all for sharing yourselves through your work, and for your support of and interest in mine. I'll be taking a break from blogging for a while and this site will be going into hibernation. My plan is to return some months from now. My email address, poetlaundry@gmail.com, will continue to remain active. Take care and enjoy your journey!