Power Line

As light runs along the length of power lines,
you glimpse, in the garden, watermelon,
honeydew, broccoli, asparagus, silking corn;

you register the tremor of five screech owls
perched on a railing under the wisteria,
shaggymanes pushing up through pecan shells;

though a microbiologist with a brain tumor
can't speak—he once intimated he most
feared to be waiting to die and is now

waiting to die—children play tag in spaces
around racks of bowling balls and white tables,
while someone scores a strike, shrieks;

young girls chase diagonally across a floor;
a woman lays in an imperfection before
she completes her Teec Nos Pos weaving;

a sous-chef slices ginger, scallions,
anticipates placing a wet towel over dumplings,
as light lifts off the length of a power line.

Copyright © 2009 Arthur Sze All rights reserved
from The Ginkgo Light
Copper Canyon Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission