by Binh Nguyen

The gunmetal look of the sky opens the scene
to this late fall afternoon.  Soon after, snow
rushes down outside the kitchen window
as if fleeing from the incurable grayness
of the clouds.

In here I watch the fire on the stove waving
its tiny tongues wildly—like some ghost
intent on telling it all in the confessional
stall of the blaze.

—Or like a devilish coquette who sticks
out her tongue, flutters it, as a way of saying
hello.  The flame keeps reaching its yellow
-blue tips upward toward the bottom of the pot,
tickling the thing,

making the soup I’m now stirring with this
ladle to boil in no time, which I then
serve into a small bowl, adding a sprinkle
of salt and pepper—a light kind of supper
for this type of weather.
Binh Nguyen studied literature and creative writing with the poet Jim Crenner at Hobart College, where he founded and edited SCRY! A Nexus of Politics and the Arts.  In 2006, Binh was enrolled in an MFA poetry workshop in New York City but was in a near-death accident which prevented him from completing the degree. He now lives in San Diego. 

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