jessamine you bow
even as you break.
I could pick you now
or later,
depending on the sun.

your arms creep over the fence
of our neighbour's home.
I could see where your smiles
had taken root.

jessamine you promise
sleep without dreams
a small dose for large sighs
a handful for thoughts.

how will I touch you:
test with two fingers
or by tugging at a fistful
of your hair?

how will I taste you:
full on my tongue
or by nibbles at the edges
of your feet?

my fruit of knowledge
in a garden of thorns
I should like to take you
into the kitchen
and bake you whole
into my lunch.

all parts of you are potent;
so it is said.
you are more ravenous
than the curse of a full moon
although
you aren't nearly as wild.

jessamine my salvation
rests on whether you bloom
where I've sown. or will you,
curse your sweet name,
spoil like dreams in the sun?

Note: Yellow Jessamine is a poisonous shrub. NOTHING else :P Yuck to kimp for even suggesting *gasp* pedophilia!


Copyright 2011 Cristina Cheng

I fear not the least
but the lukewarm
and the whole.
Bread on the counter,
a full moon, a stop, a kiss,
three sighs in the span of
five minutes. I fear not
your smile but the joy
I will find lacking, or not.

We see three children in the street,
unclothed, unabashed, unclean
and you take my hand, saying,
"That will never be us,"
I nod to myself, knowing you mean
those words with pride. I mean
to make them a ward. I fear,
you see: that will never be us,
us like children's laughter.

My mouth runs away from me in horror.
My legs keep me still.
Here is a wreck of a body
trembling in an aftermath.
There is so much to fear.
You are so much to fear.
I wish three times for succor;
puddles are steel sheets on the ground.

When we are old we will shout
to each other across the strait
and love each other through
binoculars.

Is this
this
this
life, lukewarm and whole?


Copyright 2011 Cristina Cheng