And yet you
could have walked
away—
down the steps
out the door
past the hush
of Sun’s
Laundry and into
the Other Dragon.
You could have asked for
delicate soup and sat with
your hands in your lap
folding the soft stroke of napkin
into a wild bird poised for flight.
And when it came you
could have tasted lemongrass
without the shadow of a cage.
You could have tucked the
twenty that was twice the bill
under the flimsy paper and said
please tell the chef it was lovely.
Then you could have sat for a while longer
and pretended that mercy was upstairs
waiting to settle the latch.