Christine Tsen

Drifting off to sleep
Somewhere beyond herself
She understands the ancient cypress
Full of dreamless, willfully waking morning stars –

And if she could just let her too-devout hands
Greet each of these beautiful asterisks by name
Each of these loosed, liberated longings of the self
She knows she could find her lost voice –

In the woods of silver-tinged leaves
Within the profligate spying trees
Dancing through cast dark shadows
As well as slumbering light –

Her Pandora secrets tumbling time-swept
Lacy sails filled with winds of serendipity perversed
Storybook gazes gone by, whetting the appetite
But never filling the void –

And as a rush of heliotrope scented breeze gathers the stars
She pauses as she plays out her life
Filling each void with glistening kisses
Her voice trembling but clear among the dryads of the night.