Out West

 

Lilies sprout,

butterflies rise up from their petals.

A new blade appears,

shining in the dirt,

flint sharp.

 

The beautiful things

aren’t dead,

one says.

True, echoes another.

 

Did I hear that right?

 

But all I’m met with

are bright, cherubic smiles

thrown over their shoulders

one after the other.

 

I take their meaning.

 

Jump fences, barbed wire,

float on dreams

left swirling up from the dust

on the trail.

 

Switchblade the lasso from your wings,

dig those boot heels in, girl,

 

fly.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

For Dora’s prompt at dVerse Poetics

 

Aristotle's Kiss

 

Photo © 2024 Jennifer Wagner

There are places

my heart goes to,

cracks in the earth

softened by sunrise

or sunset.

 

Remember those pink cookies

we’d get on the way to work

to share over coffee?

 

I haven’t had one in years,

but here they are,

hanging like a sun

from a tree.

 

Perfectly round, like fruit,

to pick, to share,

to illuminate the darkness

we’ve been held in for too long.

 

Aristotle’s kiss

has been long and deep.

All that salt

needs something sweet.

 

Meet me here before

the blue-black of night,

before crow-dark feathers

creep cold across our eyelids.

 

It’s nearing sunset.

I’ve one plate,

two halves,

and

coffee’s waiting.

 

 

© 2024 Jennifer Wagner

 

Poetic Bloomings

 

Reference: “Men cannot know each other until they have eaten salt together.”  -Aristotle