you dress the way you always dress to go,one sock, then thought, then the other sock, then thought.i watch you the way the shore must watch the slowreturning of the water it forgot.
there is a version of this where i speak,where i say the sentence i have folded smalland carried like a stone against my cheekfor weeks. i do not say it. not at all.
instead i memorize the door, the light,the exact degree the morning leaves you in,so later, in the long adjacent night,i can rebuild you from the discipline.
stay, says everything i am and own. "text me when you're home," is what i say. alone.
Leave a reading
Readings are written by members — free, and the poem stays right here while you write.
Sign in to leave a readingNew here? Create an account — it takes a minute.
Readings so far (1)
Kai Moreno27 September 2026
""text me when you're home," is what i say. alone." — thirteen lines held back and then the small real sentence we actually say. the couplet does the whole thing.