Brown Paper Bag— Poetry

by Derco Rosal

Photo by Derco Rosal

my usual, inhibited question,

your plain, three-syllabled answer;

a talk so guarded, perhaps not desiring

to familiarize

each other’s verses. how do you sound

so fluent

in silence with me?

how are you

so consistent, too? your cheese-stuffed

waffle, your vegetable lumpianada,

your powdery Bavarian doughnuts

bought from the local bakeshop.

your brown paper bag

on the kitchen table awaits so often

for me.

a tribe of red ants feasts

always ahead of me

over your every brown paper bag.

how can I not love

your language? too sweet ants want

to share it with me.