← v1n1, Spring 2002
Poetry · Volume 1, Number 1

Night-Blooming Jasmine

No, even though

his touch unfurls

the frowsy camellia's lack of restraint,

soothes the cool profusion of

slick-leafed calla lilies,

thumbs the tangled

tumble of honeysuckle, even so

I do not

love the man

beside me tonight.

The candles I know

by name,

the sesame oil's

skin-warmed aroma,

that second-hand moon.

Light sloshes bare skin.

Awkward thigh-step till toes touch

wood in the Japanese tub,

I try to set anchor,

ghost ship off shore.

Wild raccoons venture

out of the canyon, rest

an hour under the evening star

perched on the fence post—

inland lighthouse guiding

wayward birds of paradise.

There is no love

in the world

absent

from this moment.

This moment that slips

incognito into

small waves

breaking away

from our bodies, waves

spilling starlight

over the tub's rim,

starlight we step in,

our reflections

break, waver.