I want to be that egg white jasmine
on your kooky cramped verandah
so when you sprinkle water
I’ll bathe in glucose & fructose every dawn.
I want to be your leather-bound diary
which sits on the rosewood desk
so when you press me down
with your blue Matador pen
I’ll tickle & thrill your feelings every dusk.
I want to be your red kolbalish
sandwiched close to your chest
your arms & legs wrapped
so when you sleep
I’ll read your nightmares every twilight—
& give you comfort
through the plush down-feathers.