The Petty Infinite

The jasmine by my studio is flowering—

Oh simple life on the surface of the planet.

My writing limbo oscillates before it.

Then the other plants begin to waken

And the ground perks up.

I am a madwoman, living

In the midst of such profound activity—

And such smallness.

Let love take its chances here.

Let love luminesce and mark time

In this yellow mill-wheel of days.

We existed here

Where the owl swayed on top of the

Swaying cypress tree.

What did we want from each other?

To die having said it all—

To win having lost it all—

One fragile about-face from the stars.