I sit here in Queens, pour this tea like she’ll drink it
Tell her about the longest sunset between us
How I started to measure it
between every rib and city
as if she’s known where I’ve been
like every move in my bones has been hers
As if she could feel the equator when I couldn’t
In every tango and kiss
She kept it
in a vase of Lilly’s
watching it slowly
like an unforgiving Atlanta sun
that took every piece of her
morning prayer, dogwood,
and flush
I sit here in queens, pour this tea like I’ll know what to tell her
I choose chamomile like I know what she would drink
set up sugar and milk with conviction
to ask her if she knows salt water like
I do
like every current was hers
pulling me to the seamounts
And canyons
To tell me she hears me
Maybe she doesn’t like chamomile
she could also not like tea
or where I’ve been
like she knows that every crow of a man
stayed because I said so
and why east coasts in January show the purple on the wrists I tried so hard to fold
as if the quiet parts of me are too loud
But I think she knows
like when my eyes mimic hazel in October
against a harvest moon
How I don’t sleep, curled
waiting for the evergreens to grow in my feet when I get tired
And maybe she knows every name I’m known by in every life
I’ve lived without her
like a blue jay in sand off the coast of Uruguay, I prayed to her once
I steam the water, maybe she’d like it with lemon
I would ask her what she kept for me
like if learning how to be a woman was from her
every secret buried inside my throat
was her voice
I put ceramics on a cracked table
like she’ll comment on it
Waiting for her to sit
To finally tell me who she is
after all these miles
I wonder if she’ll fill the vase in the corner next to the window
I still wait for her at
Tara Hiteshew is a published poet and social worker living in Maspeth, Queens. She was most recently published by ALLARTS by PBS for her poem “What my Backyard Looks Like” comparing growing up in Sandy Hook, Connecticut and living in New York City during the Pandemic. Her work can also be seen in ‘Humans of the World’ for her poem “When I feel Heavy,” drawing inspiration from working at Rikers Island as a social worker. Her influences are lyrical poets like Sandra Cisneros, and Kim Addonizio who incorporate the power of storytelling and metaphor. She believes in the healing power of translating pain to art, the strength of feeling understood, and the stories that connect us.