By Kenton K. Yee

Recess is over. The sun’s out,

but I’ll shepherd them inside,

close read a high modernist

whose poems none of us likes.

It’s touching how each coddles

a plastic box in his mind’s left

hand, the index finger of

the right tapping and swiping

the glass side, eyes wide,

lips apart (smile slight),

head straining forward as

when, after the tongue licks

gelato, the lips pucker for

a straw to clasp and suck.

What the lips pucker for

after the tongue licks gelato.

Head straining forward,

lips apart (smile slight).

The glassy smile, wide eyes,

the right tapping and swiping.

Hand, the index finger of,

a plastic box in his mind’s left.

It’s touching how each coddles

poets, like the high modernists,

none of us likes to close read,

but I’ll shepherd them inside.

Recess is over. The sun’s out.

Kenton K. Yee’s recent poems appear (or will soon) in Kenyon Review, Threepenny Review, Cincinnati Review, RHINO, Quarterly West, Poetry Northwest, Indianapolis Review, Glassworks Magazine, Columbia Journal, Denver Quarterly, Electric Literature, Poetry Wales, Fairy Tale Review, Rattle, and other venues. He writes from Northern California. FB: @scrambled.k.eggs INSTA: @kentonkyeepoet