The traveler sits by the window.Kate Schapira
Kanying comes in to look through his drawers; they've given us his room. "Taking notes on what you see today?" He sees me comfortable. Who sees what I see? Narration in a foreign language. I go downstairs to eat leftover duck, shrimp, eggs, greens, rice, and soup. Imported sense of what it takes to keep things running stands in the golden. Rich of vegetation, petrochemicals, the usually hidden. Give up the real thing enveloped in a certainty like evening. Craving one version and its underside.
Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2018, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|