I admit, I laughed . . . but there’s only so much . . . you can do
. . . with kale . . . and I hate kale . . . almost as much . . . as the
male gaze . . . pity our poor eyes . . . if a woman . . . woke
inside of me . . . one day, would . . . my eyeballs still be . . .
male gazey . . . my little brother . . . has accused me . . . of
overthinking . . . every single thing . . . the U.S. postal service
mail . . . is what I think of . . . when I think of you . . . of all
the times . . . I stared at the mailbox . . . smiling, you on my
mind . . . licking a stamp . . . for the package you made . . .
with your own . . . two hands . . . to send to me . . . across this
. . . thousand or so miles . . . a small piece . . . of the only you
. . . there is . . . has been . . . will ever be.
Tomás Q. Morín
Tomás Q. Morín is the author most recently of the poetry collection Machete and Where Are You From: Letters to My Son. His debut novel Cat Love is forthcoming from Pantheon in 2026. He is a fellow of the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. He teaches at Rice University.
