and the distance between us and the moon.
Us being us, we have to name it. Put small
words to a large thing. Beautiful, silver, full.
I love you
but will not tell you in
what ways, and this is what keeps
my desire full.
There are lines I could write like, my love for you
is a hidden swell, just for the pleasure
of imagining you crossing it out.
There is a wild lavender bush lit by the moon.
And when I muddle its purple between
my fingers, drawing it to my neck,
I remember you are sensitive to smell. I
apologize and you say, It’s not like I am
going to nuzzle you — so maybe
this is an elegy, for the scent on my skin,
bittersweet reminder of all the ways you will not
touch me. No —
this is an ode. For the lavender and for
the moon, too, for the ecstatic distance
that keeps me begging, silently,
for you.
For the wild lavender by Brooke Sahni | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser
Brooke Sahni is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently In This Distance. Her debut collection, Before I Had the Word (Texas Review Press), won the X.J. Kennedy Poetry Prize selected by Maggie Smith and her chapbook, Divining (Orison Books), won the Orison Chapbook Prize. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in journals such as Alaska Quarterly, The Missouri Review, Nimrod, The Cincinnati Review, Boulevard, Verse Daily, 32 Poems and elsewhere. Her poetry chapbook, Letters, Dreams is forthcoming in 2026.
