by Jennifer Saunders

After David Baker



1.

Last night's storm drips from the redbud.
Droplets stutter in the morning breeze
and dot the patio, bedazzle the grass.
The rabbit's ears twitch when the blue jay—
screecher, dive-bomber, cat-chaser—
emerges from its nest in the pine
to forage among the perennials as
last night's storm drips from the redbud.


2.

In the shady corners of the garden, foxglove
thrives, pointing its purple way skyward,
towering over the spreading hostas, their
white-rimmed leaves. Their drooping leaves.
Beside them the rabbit trims the clover,
pink-white poms disappearing into her
rapidly working jaws. Sun on the grass.
In the shady corner of the garden, foxglove.


3.

I have so much yet to reconcile. Sun and shadow.
I wish I understood how to make a garden thrive.
How to account for the shifting seasons. Drought
and cicada emergence, the emerald ash borer.
Ten years of my brother's labor to green this plot
that draws the rabbit, a pair of cardinals, the jays.
Here, raised beds; there, a shade tree. Patient years.
I have so much yet to reconcile. Shadow, sun.


4.

How to account for the shifting seasons? Sometimes,
even in the face of care, things don't thrive. Rabbits
eat the hostas down to the roots, the jays strip bare
the raspberry bush. Blight migrates northward.
I wish I'd understood how long a root system takes
to secure the soil, how many seasons of growth pass
beneath the surface. Now, trumpet vine and rabbits.
Last night's storm dripping from the redbud.

____________________________________________________________

Jennifer Saunders (she/her) is the author of Tumor Moon, winner of the Concrete Wolf Chapbook Contest (forthcoming from Concrete Wolf, 2025) and Self Portrait with Housewife (Tebot Bach, 2019). A Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Orison Anthology nominee, Jennifer's work has appeared in Ninth Letter, Poet Lore, Rogue Agent, and elsewhere. She is the co-editor of Stained: an anthology of writing about menstruation (Querencia Press, 2023) and lives in German-speaking Switzerland.

by Jennifer Saunders

It's #tbt! Enjoy this great one from SWWIM Every Day's archives!

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

“ … Whatever
mistakes we make, we will become what we are
because of our blunders.”
Dorianne Laux “Zulu, Indiana (An Ode to the Internet)”

O stirrup pants, o acid-washed jeans, o single
black lace glove and rubber bracelets. Forgive me,
but you were mistakes, all of you,
you and the thigh-ripped-open jeans
I criss-crossed with skate laces. O big hair,
o green eye shadow, o hanging out on the beach
drinking ill-gotten Bartles & Jaymes and letting JP
of the fake ID unlace me and feed me
vodka-spiked watermelon
and slide his fingers inside me.
O dark parking lot, o end of the lane.
O you missteps, you well-practiced mistakes,
you paving of my crooked road. Fender-bender
in the McDonald’s parking lot
on the way home from Great America
because I was too impatient
to wipe the steam from the back window.
The ride I hitched with those guys
who turned out to be high
and on shore leave. O narrow escapes.
That haircut sophomore year.
That blue prom dress. Jellies.
Not going to Homecoming with G
because nice guys scared me
more than JP and his Alabama Slammers.
O grapefruit diet, o Jane Fonda’s Workout, o beginning
of erasure. Daisy Dukes and ankle boots,
D+ in calculus, girl sitting in the back row
chewing her hair. O child, o paving stone,
o boat somebody else rowed. Off-the-shoulder
sweatshirts, “Let’s Get Physical,” o parachute pants—
the kind that were so easy to slip out of.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jennifer Saunders (she/her) is the author of Self-Portrait with Housewife (Tebot Bach, 2019), winner of the Clockwise Chapbook Competition. Her poem “Crosswalk” was selected by Kim Addonizio as the winner of the 2020 Gregory O’Donoghue International Poetry Prize and appeared in Southword. Jennifer's work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Georgia Review, Grist, Ninth Letter, Pidgeonholes, Poet Lore, and elsewhere. She is also the co-editor of Stained: an anthology of writing about menstruation (Querencia Press, 2023). Jennifer holds an MFA from Pacific University and lives in German-speaking Switzerland.

by Jennifer Saunders

             “ … Whatever

            mistakes we make, we will become what we are

            because of our blunders.”

                        Dorianne Laux “Zulu, Indiana (An Ode to the Internet)”

O stirrup pants, o acid-washed jeans, o single

black lace glove and rubber bracelets. Forgive me,

but you were mistakes, all of you,

you and the thigh-ripped-open jeans

I criss-crossed with skate laces. O big hair,

o green eye shadow, o hanging out on the beach

drinking ill-gotten Bartles & Jaymes and letting JP

of the fake ID unlace me and feed me

vodka-spiked watermelon

and slide his fingers inside me.

O dark parking lot, o end of the lane.

O you missteps, you well-practiced mistakes,

you paving of my crooked road. Fender-bender

in the McDonald’s parking lot

on the way home from Great America

because I was too impatient

to wipe the steam from the back window.

The ride I hitched with those guys

who turned out to be high

and on shore leave. O narrow escapes.

That haircut sophomore year.

That blue Prom dress. Jellies.

Not going to Homecoming with G

because nice guys scared me

more than JP and his Alabama Slammers.

O grapefruit diet, o Jane Fonda’s Workout, o beginning

of erasure. Daisy Dukes and ankle boots,

D+ in calculus, girl sitting in the back row

chewing her hair. O child, o paving stone,

o boat somebody else rowed. Off-the-shoulder

sweatshirts, “Let’s Get Physical,” o parachute pants—

the kind that were so easy to slip out of.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Jennifer Saunders is a poet living in German-speaking Switzerland. Her chapbook, Self-Portrait with Housewife, was selected by Gail Wronsky as the winner of the 2017 Clockwise Chapbook Competition and is forthcoming from Tebot Bach Press. Her work has appeared in Crab Fat Magazine, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Spillway, The Shallow Ends, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. Jennifer holds an MFA from Pacific University and in the winters she teaches skating in a hockey school.