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| Tetyana Kovyrina |
A young toddler
in blue overalls
and mini-Velcro sneakers
stares up at the librarian,
mesmerized.
"Now give the lady your card,
so she can give you your books,"
his mother instructs.
He hands the library card over, wide-eyed.
In a tiny grey train conductor's cap.
The librarian
reaching down to give
the kid his books.
Two children's books,
the one on top is
Clifford: The Big Red Dog.
"Say thank you,"
the mother implores
her child.
The kid says nothing
and waves goodbye.
With that clumsy munchkin
of a hand.
I am in line behind them,
smiling the honest
smile.
And later,
sitting over a sandwich shop
sub and pop,
I think of it again.
An ache in my cheeks
from another deep smile.
The sun's warmth
through the window,
over my lazing
arms.
Sometimes
the world is good.
© Ryan Quinn Flanagan
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| Ryan Quinn Flanagan |
Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author who resides in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada, with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage. His work has appeared both in print and online in such places as The New York Quarterly, MasticadoresUSA, Evergreen Review, LatinosUSA - Poetry Bookshelf, Borderless Journal, GloMag, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and The Oklahoma Review. He enjoys listening to the blues and cruising down the TransCanada in his big blacked-out truck.
