postcard from home
By Rowan Tate
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025
the world we were in is overgrown
with the pit-pierced places in us we were afraid to give a name
and sharper lines of sight.
in it, we go foraging for selves
across the sword-swish of time in the fall of its folds,
unpeeling pasts from presents, the moth of a memory
skewered
with a toothpick
to the yolk-yellow lamplight of this childhood bedroom
where i am five years old and still cross-legged
as if learning how to pray.
with the pit-pierced places in us we were afraid to give a name
and sharper lines of sight.
in it, we go foraging for selves
across the sword-swish of time in the fall of its folds,
unpeeling pasts from presents, the moth of a memory
skewered
with a toothpick
to the yolk-yellow lamplight of this childhood bedroom
where i am five years old and still cross-legged
as if learning how to pray.
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Rowan Tate is a Romanian creative (poet, essayist, visual artist, songwriter). She reads nonfiction nature books, the backs of shampoo bottles, and sometimes minds.
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