Shoe-Box

On —, I learned how
To peel unripe plantains with a butter knife
and double-jointed thumbs.
On —, I wrote Poppop a sign that said DO NOT
come here asking for money. He never learned
how to write in English. On —
there is a dead end, a trellis of sour grapes,
a basketball hoop with a net petrified by time.
The older cousin who touched me lives
on —.
No one locks their doors. Every house is my family.
Dinner comes with rice. I stay up late
to hold stray kittens until they die, aspirating on formula,
raccoon-faced, buried in a fuzzy sock.

–Lorren Richards

Lorren Richards is a Puerto Rican poet from Salem, New Jersey, and the recipient of the 2025 Philip. H. Wang Memorial Prize in Poetry. In their work, they most privilege connection and accessibility, hoping that their poetry can serve as a conduit for conversation and a soft place to land.