Green leaves sway silver into the navy distance
Coming in, going out,
Coming in, going out,
Of moonlight
Soft grains of rice sit idly in my hand
The bland dryness of white
On my pale cream skin
As if I could see you clearly
And not beyond
Elm groves of orchard apples
Where I first saw an orange rose
Or days when getting wet
Was harder than drying off
Because if there was a way
Of fixing a problem before facing it
I would
God knows I'd have sewed those seams
And tied those loose ends,
Shut that box air tight
And cast it far off
Like flower petals on the breeze
As if it was the same breeze
That I feel cold on my cheek this second
This minute, this hour, this day, this week
This month of this 365 day cycle
Of all these wasted lifetimes
All the way there
Then a million miles back to here
And now
To me standing small and blind
Wishing I could see this velvet night
The sterling jade of weeping trees
And waist-high emerald stalks of grass
Moving as easily as silken ribbon
To see it for what it was
For what it is,
My deep blue oasis of falling dark
Muddled by gemstones shining bright
As plentiful as my choked cries
Dropping, slipping rice through my fingers
As quickly, it seems, as the days
Of my childhood
Had fallen beyond my reach
Fallen silent and pearl white
To be lost in the silver green leaves
Of May
