On Closer Inspection

Watching, under open skies

Or through some window, likely—

Driver’s side, rented townhouse,

Hospital room’s rectangle—

It does seem like what’s outside

Does what it does easily,

The way June Jordan’s jasmine

Bloomed easily while she worked

To clean the impossible

White shirt clinging to its dirt.

But that’s what science is for—

To scrutinize more closely,

To measure how life’s so much

Work for anything lovely.