Hungry Hungry Dragon
Author: Libby Knight
after a line from Williams
The places we visit are new
versions of our city–streets we knew
house by house elm by oak
an alley where the phone pole
marked an end zone a park
on a river where mailboats docked
between runs to slow freighters
What was our town and what
might be draw together like lovers
in a doorway lips joining them
for a beat after arms and linked
hands release After sirens a rapt
child pulls her face from a window
and leaves a faint warm
convolution on the glass
Oldest Daughter
A quiet moment:
me, sitting in the morning,
peeling a tangerine
pliant, fragrant,
generous. I breathe
in citrus groves and
pry soft segments apart,
release a torrent with my tongue.
Perched in the captain seat,
I rolled down the window
of the old minivan
stuck my head out
caress of orange blossom
balm of Florida breeze going by hush
I peeled fruit for breakfast,
for lunch, four plates
at the table. One for me,
three other mouths
always served the youngest first
At my kitchen table,
I turn away from the sink,
the pots, the lunchboxes waiting
to be filled and emptied and filled again
I am
a person sitting,
eating a tangerine