Clutter (ghazal)

Bouquets of Tunisian Jasmine
from the desert to his lady at the Delta.

Lion’s manes from the low savannah,
tied in vines, a verdant lushness.

Rare crystal silt, it comes from the Congo,
New Zealand, Hell, does it matter?

The mansion still feels empty;
a hollow, contrived space.

Birds from Paradise, in Venetian amber
carry the powder scents in the tropics.

She is very lucky to have him;
or else what would she be?

The Tranquil Sea’s faults yield Moonstones,
in Styrofoam, red-eyed to London.

She rubs against red Beijing silk
in bed all day, writhing, trying to forget.