The Fruit Room
The jasmine grows
In through the walls,
Into the fruit room
Its perfume blows
The lucid sun
Before the storm
Around the cot where
She listens to the hush of the corn
The mellow rhyme
Of slow rain falls
Before the summer storms
Swell round the fruit room
And buckle the pip scattered floor...
Ane the breeze from the west utters.
The jasmine grows,
Slowly uncoils
Into the summer storms
Baskets and blades
Hang from the walls
Around the fruit room
A shipwreck in an ocean of corn.
The jasmine grows
In through the walls
Into the fruit room
Its perfume blows
The lucid sun
Before the storm
Around the cot where
She listens to the hush of the corn.
And the breeze from the west utters.