Jasmine Bleeds White

A poem for Brandon. Originally written in 2006, "Jasmine Bleeds White" is one of my prettier poems from "The Piano".

Jasmine bleeds white,
the milk of her core sticking
between my thumb and middle finger.

The roughness of her
small yellow petals
surprises me.

The thick green of her
winding vines
crawl along
and up the height
of a silent
amber
streetlight.

Gazing upon this -

   the ruffled silhouette of ivy,
   the blossoms of jasmine,
   the black lamp post,
   the pink blooms on a shadowy shrub,
   the crucifixion buds on the dogwood tree. . .

and as the locusts sing away
the final moments of Summer
and the winds of Autumn tease me -

   I remember the poetry of my heart.

As I sit on the front steps of my porch,
I hear a voice and it's
growing louder.

The poet-boy inside me
stirs, rubs his eyes
and begins
to wake.

Jasmine bleeds white,
the milk of her core leaking
from a broken stem in my hand.