Lunch Break

Back to Issue 10

by Hubbard Savage

Where can I go to the top
of a bald mountain
with only a lonely
lunch hour to spare?

I don’t need much but
mother wolf wind
     to lick my neck,
a place I can’t reach
     in the back of my head.

There is no mountain. 

So I despondently explore a thrift store,
then drive backwards to a dead end
and roll the windows down
to eat my fried rice in isolation,
to think about learning bird songs.

And when I feel sufficiently
not-suffocated, dear God,
I’d like a productive afternoon.



Hubbard Savage is a figurative artist and writer who lives and works in Kansas City. His poetry has appeared in Scribe Literary Journal and Quail Bell Magazine, and his paintings have been collected across the United States and internationally.