Bamboo (2003)
When the day is done, she brings me back home. We turn off the lights in the house and go to the bedroom. I open a dresser drawer and take from it the little box and remove the incense. My three second reinvention of fire licks the stick of nag champa and soon enough the smoke, sweet and musky, rises like a long, think ribbon and vanishes in blossoms. When I lay me down among the sheets and down, she goes to take her bamboo flute and, sitting beside me, begins to play.
Each night before the slumber comes upon us, I close my eyes and she weaves the bamboo notes as though her flute were returning to life with lush green leaves coming forth. As I descend into the darkness, her serenade encloses upon me in a moment of grace. And I am adorned with the delicate air that vibrates on the very fingertips of my life. My soul becomes still, and I could almost die. But the melody fades, and when I open my eyes the darkness remains. Her touch brings me back, and I am with her again, and forever.
