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Minnemingo Review

Goddess at Dawn                                               Emily Hampton

In the quietness, my sun shines 60 watts
through the lacy smog lampshade.
In white, I watch from the steps of the Prince Palace
Hotel, chin in hands on knees. Empty streets sigh

in the blink between nightlife
and day job. Even ever-present silk-shirt sellers
and denim-vendors sleep, tarps and cardboard
stretched over roadside stands.

I breathe salt and trash
and the river a block away, knowing
though Bangkok melts into fog every direction,
the sky goes on forever.

A yellow spider scurries
from my sandal to the sidewalk.
It whispers, “I am the spirit
of the City of Life, and so are you.”

I have seen this city sleeping
and I know it when it screams,
roads humming with rainbowed
taxicabs, but my city is made

of smaller things, like a yellow spider
or a white dress. In a breath
I wake Bangkok
to meet the new year.