Selected Poems
Wonton Soup
1) Yang Xiong folds wontons
Dozens, most without looking
down at the table, by the window
He watches across the street.
2) His devotion is divine office
of the everlasting triangle.
He fills and folds a navy
of yolk sealed boats.
3) It is cold and late.
I have missed supper
Waiting is cruel task.
I soak in driving rain.
4) Papers I carry
wrapped in plastic
are more important
then my red raw skin.
5) Yang knows why I am there
when the unmarked car arrives
Yang nods to me, relieved
and walks back to the woks.
6) I return to the restaurant.
on the counter, wonton soup.
I thank him. Yang laughs at my
attempt at Mandarin, thanks me.
7) I pass hot soup
hand to hand to
keep myself warm
on the ride home.
Dozens, most without looking
down at the table, by the window
He watches across the street.
2) His devotion is divine office
of the everlasting triangle.
He fills and folds a navy
of yolk sealed boats.
3) It is cold and late.
I have missed supper
Waiting is cruel task.
I soak in driving rain.
4) Papers I carry
wrapped in plastic
are more important
then my red raw skin.
5) Yang knows why I am there
when the unmarked car arrives
Yang nods to me, relieved
and walks back to the woks.
6) I return to the restaurant.
on the counter, wonton soup.
I thank him. Yang laughs at my
attempt at Mandarin, thanks me.
7) I pass hot soup
hand to hand to
keep myself warm
on the ride home.
