I wanted to write about something ease-filled and beautiful…
Enter: jasmine.
The Artwork: St. Jasminum
The Poem: The Alabaster Room
I want to
enter a room
made completely
of jasmine;
a perfumed box of tumbling pale,
nothing cloying
like piles of buttercream or
fortified Muscat,
but oh so
intoxicated,
but oh still
singing it out
in the alabaster room.
I want to
manually bring
jasmine’s scent into my body;
inject my veins
with its esters,
lie about puffing its seed,
its dream-laden breath
busily melting into my lungs,
a holy integration –
like butter into warm rice,
seconds to no difference
between white and yellow
ivory and crimson only
a root knowing that
it is good.
I want to
eat its leaves
every morning
I want to
drink its brew
every night
I want to feel floret fingers
rise out of my hands,
my mouth, my eyes.
I want to give
every sadness a sprig,
every frozen valley a garden,
every barren grave a vase
of jasmine!
I want to scream
into the dazzling mud-heart
of the earth:
Thank you!
Thank you for the jasmine!