A Space Lay Empty

     The scent of past prime jasmine flowers
     Hangs thick on anxious air
     Bloomed this day while I am gone,

     In my heart
     Someone has cut
     A small hole
     So all passion’s fierce bile
     Has leaked out,
     Soaked deep now in embrace of earth
     Coursing like molten veins,

     A dusty quiet fills my mind
     Sprinkled on scattered paper piles,
     All these thoughts have hushed to hear
     The sagging sigh of sleep.

     Children in Raincoats

     We move through
     Children in raincoats
     Marching home from school,
     Their tails trailing long into the evening
     Faintly recalling spritely morning showers,
     Devoid of time’s impermanence –
     The catharsis of past
     Deeply repulsed by the soul,

     Only when the partition of sleep
     Wakes dawn in the spirit’s chest
     Drowsily do we shake off its crystallized remains.

     Imperfection finds its home

     In a tea cup
     Lives a crack
     A child charting a sea of grass,
     To claim its proper path,

     Where does it go
     When its house is dispersed
     Back to mosaic earth?


     I cling to his shirt
     Like a young grape
     Plucked from a hearty vine
     Dragging with it the stem,

     They urge her to check off more boxes
     That each one will serve as a conduit
     An umbilical cord from Heaven
     To Jerusalem,
     A reminder
     So that each piece – cornea,
     Kidney, marrow, tissue,
     Will be another small peephole
     Through which one could look
     To observe a diorama of paper mache
     And flesh,

     It is bright and warm
     A screen door keeps the flies outside,
     A single cloud drifts lifelessly across the sky
     Punctured here and there,
     Intensified light
     Radiating through,

     I hold on tight to cover the missing spots.

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