Thursday, June 6, 2024


Photo © 2024 Jennifer Wagner


From the watchtower

I saw them, wildflowers

drifting downstream.


I followed on foot, from loamy bank

to bank, and found you

in that neglected canoe


—you’d chased them, too,

with my heart,

a padlock you’d rescued


for pennies on the dollar,

and handed it back to me,

warm, and melting like wax.


I’d never been able

to find the key,

but you unlocked it


with a poem in Latin,

so haunted, so beautiful,

and unchained all my wildflower tears.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner



Shay's Word Garden Word List 

dVerse OLN

Monday, May 27, 2024

Rose Water


Trembling at the beach

on a day meant for indoors,


tossing her ashes

like a paper airplane


in the wind,


we knew it was

always going to be this way—


she was always

going to come back to us,


one way or another—


her ghost on the cereal box, first thing,

her costumes hanging in the attic,


somehow noisily animated

after dark.


Each of our eyes

a Lucky Strike,


red-rimmed and wondering

how to pilot


the rest of it

without her.




© 2024 Jennifer Wagner



For the List at Shay’s Word Garden