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102

Port

Noor Haddad

Free verse · Journey · Loss

I come from a city that is mostly leaving.The boats go out heavier than they come back.My grandmother refused to learn the word for goodbyein any of the languages the harbor spoke —

she said waving was enough, and did ituntil the last of us was a dot, then water,then just her hand, still moving, out of habit.

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Up next · no reading yetOde to the Pot That Survived the MovePraise the dented pot that crossed an ocean