there’s a clear distinction between getting what you want
and wanting more than what you can get, she says,
kneeling in front of a piping hot kettle and a small bowl
accompanied by a humorously small bamboo whisk.
Bug-Eye looks at me. the meaning of a sentence is lost in the hexes of her wings, her spindly thin abdomen, the way her fragile limbs twitch.
she tries to smile. she doesn’t. i turn to the murky pool in front of me, losing myself in the way the petals relax on such a delicate surface. the air is thick with heat. i collect more than enough sweat upon my forehead.
you need not ask for more than what you have. nor ask for less than what you deserve.
but why? my reply lingered between us like an afterthought.
why ask when you could have more? the clink of china, the unsteady stirring irritates me with her ungraceful, jerking movements. Bug-Eye relaxes. silence. the grove is clear.
she turns the cup in her hands, once, twice, thrice; her spindly fingers tracing the grooves of a world not yet explored. her eyes watch me closely. all five hundred of them. i turn away
to watch how the koi fish do not swim through the water, but
become stagnant in a place the water feels best.
we kneel on the grass, sipping the green tea as quietly as one can. that is all i am left with.
perhaps this is the reason why i do not ask for more;
nor deserve any less, because
we simply are given with all that we need.
copyrighted, poemsbyjewel (2025).
