“Open Season” by Shelley Wong (5/24-5/30)

Of nervous ardor — of arboreal delight — stemmed bounty, bouquet tumbledown —

Of arrows & their Eros, a sticky web, honeyed, stirring a forest, spiraling messages from branch to branch

The swollen cream-colored buds of the southern magnolia tree: one blossom blooms overnight like a skirt splitting in the heat

Of as an echo, as is each season, in which we are always praying for water, where the ocean exceeds herself & fire season is now & always

Of being among the trees as an apparition, to withhold the transformation

Of being abuzz among florals, choral in their scents — spiced jasmine deepening the cerulean twilight

Of flight — a male Anna’s hummingbird hovers in hyperflutter, presenting his magenta sequined throat

An exhale — a breaking down — a release —

Desire as an awakening, you dart as if winged — exhausted lusting for a luster, glittering for a gleam 

Startled by the body, its capacity to know without language, its return as rehearsing 

Of gentleness — that feather touch — a flame that flickers & traces the air with its vanishing

Of the breath between us — that we may meet & close the distance —