by Lauren Schwartz23 Feb 2014
Miami and thoughts of the jasmine hedge, home
in a circle of sky as she floated. Nothing
haunts her more, then the scent of jasmine baked in sunlight
while she bathed in the deep end of their pool. It
provided her with an anchor for the loneliness. If only
she could have glanced past the concrete coping for scenes
to come. The future did not include scenes
of hope, or resurrection. They switched homes
so often: the uncanny was their only
destination. Leaving it was not an option. Nothing
was that indomitable. She was blind to it;
to what was not happening. Piercing sunlight
on her skin and heady blooms of jasmine slightly
swaying in the ocean breeze--and another scene
enters her mind. Staying forever, even if it
would kill her. Repeating the scene of loss, home
by home, what she really saw was nothing
when she looked past the coping. Only
a twinge from within would change it. If only
she had had the courage to bend the light
before the eclipse of nothing.
Would the suffering have abated? The scene
at the end floats close to that twinge. She left town
with the kids and the dog and the car. The rest of it
remained on the curb in piles. There it
was, a life, removed by strangers. Only
it was her life dusting the lawn. No home.
Miami jasmine calls her, even as sunlight
wanes in the musty grammar of its scent.
Her poverty was not for nothing.
That jasmine hedge was powerful, and nothing
of much importance interfered with its
by sunlight, lonely
white petals surrounded her while she floated
in the deep end. No home.
Time has made a tear in the sunlight.
Heady jasmine beckons remote scene
of nothing: no matter what home.