Jennifer Saunders is the author of Tumor Moon, winner of the Concrete Wolf Chapbook Award, and Self Portrait with Housewife, winner of the Clockwork Chapbook Prize. Recipient of the 2020 Gregory O'Donoghue International Poetry Prize, Jennifer's work has appeared in The Georgia Review, Ninth Letter, Poet Lore, Southword, and elsewhere. She is the co-editor of the Stained anthology, and lives in German-speaking Switzerland where she teaches skating in a hockey school.
The Night Sky Petunia Blossom Envies the Night Sky
after Dara Yen Elerath
Why should the night sky petunia envy the night sky
when she can open the O of her mouth to the Milky Way
while burying her feet in the loam? When she knows
the hot kiss of the sun, its steady presence, rays on her face
like fingers? Why not love what she is: startling beauty
bordering the garden, a universe spilling from hanging baskets.
Instead, she dreams of the night sky, envies the stars
that only appear to be stars but are in fact distant galaxies.
That's how far they are from our fingertips. How unknowable.
But she is a tender perennial. The constellations
in her mouth dazzle and dim with the weather.