Tangzhong, with a Line from Genet
By JoAnna Novak
For you, my exhaustion
is but a crumb. Gray
afternoon, tenebrous
train clattering copper
on the stove. Flour
and water, milk
and my beckoning
spoon. I did not
mean to be mean,
alliterative, or mis-
judge. Let me
draw trails
in this thickening,
just a smell
starts me—
slowly,
the yawning
burble, and I
exist, improved.
A man must dream
a long time
in order to act
with grandeur,
and dreaming
is nursed in
the darkness.
Source: Poetry (April 2026)