Vivian Wagner's Poems
Vivian Wagner’s work has appeared in Slice Magazine, Muse/A Journal, Forage Poetry Journal, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Gone Lawn, The Atlantic, Narratively, The Ilanot Review, Silk Road Review, Zone 3, Bending Genres, and other publications. She's the author of a memoir, Fiddle: One Woman, Four Strings, and 8,000 Miles of Music (Citadel-Kensington); a full-length poetry collection, Raising (Clare Songbirds Publishing House); and four poetry chapbooks: The Village (Aldrich Press-Kelsay Books), Making (Origami Poems Project), Curiosities (
At the Witches Convention
We learned new spells,
heard pitches about the latest
read booklets promising a new
understanding of moon phases,
took seminars on poison apples
and candy house construction.
In the end, we left with
swag bags full of sample potions
and motivational bookmarks,
ready for another lonely year of
making our own magic.
Jupiter hangs low and bright,
like my dog’s eyes, both of them
large planets shining with promise.
And perhaps this planet, here —
the one beneath my feet —
resides in the firmament
face of another animal,
calming in the universe’s
swirl, saying look, there’s
just us now, just these eyes.
To the One Who Taught Me to Amble
You walked a mile each day, sniffing lilacs,
commenting on bumblebees, putting one foot
forward, and then the other, because
such traversing meant you still could.
I think of you each day as I walk my own street,
smell my own flowers, watch my own birds.
You taught me dailiness. You taught me aging.
You taught me how to survive, and I wish
you could join me now for a meander.
I think you’d like the brilliant-yellow dandelions
and the robins with their curious eyes.
myself apart and
I’m finding, though,
that I like their
sharp teeth, their
the way they
take me into