I want to find the channel
and stand in the middle
as orange Monarch butterflies,
flit past me, one by one,
like shooting stars, or shooting orange peels.
I want to be surrounded
by a wave of orange heading south,
knowing there's something
we can't stop, or haven't stopped yet.
I want to find the tree
where they nest at night
like a bunch of mimosas,
or Froot Loops, or Lucky Charms.
It's not likely, though.
I've been waiting for a few minutes now,
out in the open,
and haven't seen one orange traveler.
By Thaddeus Rutkowski
Thaddeus Rutkowski grew up in central Pennsylvania and is a graduate of Cornell University and The Johns Hopkins University. He is the author of the novels Tetched (Behler Publications) and Roughhouse (Kaya Press). Both books were finalists for an Asian American Literary Award; Tetched was chosen as one of the best books reviewed in 2006 by Chronogram magazine. His stories and poems have been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize.
He teaches fiction writing at the Writer's Voice of the West Side YMCA in New York and has taught at Pace University, the Hudson Valley Writers Center and the Asian American Writers Workshop. His book reviews have appeared in The New York Times, the Los Angeles Daily News and other papers.
He lives in Manhattan with his wife and daughter.