自強號 (zì qiáng hào)
Winshen Liu
I heated leftovers for lunch today.
The lid sweat
as Taiwan arrived
in steam: jasmine
rice that had slept with
a braised egg, cabbage and carrots
woken up from a nap.
The office courtyard steeped
in the high light of a young sun,
one that had not yet seen the western
window of a southbound train, where
an aproned woman pushes
a cart of warm boxes car to car, asking
if you need one in song.