Poem

Roomed with solitude and a tablet
while zongzi steams in the rice cooker.
Dragon Boat Festival is the day
after tomorrow, but this is not
about that—

about water races and loyalty.
It’s not about pyramids of rice
or respect for the dead, although
the latter is commendable,
like history.

Rather, here is a white pine desk
and a plastic cup with tea stall tea.
Here’s a window and the sky at dusk.
With a lone bookshelf in the glass,
there’s a poem here.