by Selia Qynn 6/5/2003
The Jasmine had outgrown the clothesline pole
Tangling in upon itself for lack of structure.
I added an arch beside it,
and began unraveling it one bright night.
I felt like a mythological character performing some impossible task
Untangling vines by moonlight to save my soul.
It must have been the moon...
along with a supplementary floodlight glaring from across the yard.
Similar to the moonlight in lumens, and also, eerily, by metaphor.
As I became more intoxicated by the vision,
It all began to seem like a memory - a fond one.
The Jasmine looks beautiful this morning
Arching her back in the sun.