Mrs. G’s Jasmines

the night is lying by my side,
paws in the air, asking for a belly rub,
Mrs. G’s jasmines are poking their head
over the wall, again, to eavesdrop,
a troubled wind is climbing a tree
to confess to the sleeping birds
and some kind of a star
is glowing brighter than it should,
Venus, you say, and want to discuss
things I will not write about,
things I will not talk about,

but you don’t know about walking
in the harsh morning light,
when every angle of a side street,
when every curve of a street lamp,
when every pair of rushing shoes,
is telling me stories that I cannot own,
stories too sad, too happy, to terrible to know,
stories that stick like gum to my hair, my skin,
that will rip a part of me
if I try to pull them out,

so I write under cover of dark,
putting hoods on words,
changing their voice,
changing the colour of their eyes,
till no one knows them anymore,
till they become balm on my wounds,
till they unglue themselves from my fear,
till dawn,

but there is no night, you say,
the moon is a mask the sun wears
so he can sit on your shoulder
and read as you write,
words that are no longer his,
words that he tried to give to you,
see how he frowns
as he blows bubbles with the gum
he carefully plucks from your hair,

Mrs.G’s jasmines nod at the star,
at you, at the sun, at the painted words,
at the masquerade of night.

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30 thoughts on “Mrs. G’s Jasmines

  1. Bravo! My new favorite of all, and I have many loves among your poems!
    Mrs. G.s jasmines are the least entangling, yet even they, even they! need the masquerade to come out and parade their story. We need them to wait along with the sun and all that tell me:
    “stories that I cannot own,
    stories too sad, too happy, to terrible to know,
    stories that stick like gum to my hair, my skin,
    that will rip a part of me
    if I try to pull them out …”
    I thank God for the kindness of night who cuddles, who needs me, too.

    Like

  2. Your words and thoughts are beautiful, are elegant.
    How the moon courts us in shadows as he blocks out the sun…
    Anna :o]

    Like

  3. so I write under cover of dark,
    putting hoods on words,
    changing their voice,
    changing the colour of their eyes,
    till no one knows them anymore,
    till they become balm on my wounds,
    till they unglue themselves from my fear,
    till dawn,

    Beautifully haunting!❤️

    Like

  4. wow I love line after line after line
    so many beautiful poetic images
    made my heart jump and I can relate to it as I read in it the many sad stories we come across in life
    and giving them a voice
    An absolutely stunning poem

    Like

  5. This is really evocative…the story it tells…the way it flows….amazing that you wrote this in a hurry… Love ‘the moon is a mask the sun wears…..’

    Like

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