The Night Divided
National Poetry Month|Day 23| April 23 | Prompt #23
Prompt #23: Choose two lines that feel like they belong together, your two refrains. They should be in some tension with each other. Then build 19 lines around them, letting them echo and accumulate meaning with each repetition. The villanelle earns its ending: by line 19, the refrains should mean something different than they did in line 1.
The Night Divided
By Saint Trey
I practice love with hands that still remember harm,
you held his hand, then called me just before your sleep,
I call it love, though it arrives without a form.
You said my name like something meant to steady calm,
said I love you as if that vow was yours to keep,
I practice love with hands that still remember harm.
I learned the weight of trust, how quickly it can disarm,
how easily a promise turns to something cheap,
I call it love, though it arrives without a form.
You let him hold the hand I thought was mine to warm,
then let your voice fall soft enough to make me weep,
I practice love with hands that still remember harm.
There is a version of me still beneath your charm,
still reaching toward the lie I buried far too deep,
I call it love, though it arrives without a form.
But I am learning not to make a wound my psalm,
to choose the truth my body’s trying now to keep,
I practice love with hands that still remember harm,
I call it love, though it arrives without a form.Saint Trey Wooden is a New York–born poet, essayist, organizer, and strategist based in Brooklyn. His work focuses on Black life, queer experience, political memory, and the everyday practices of care and resistance that shape how communities survive and imagine forward. He is a 2026 Lincoln City Fellow; a Spring 2026 Brooklyn Poets Fellow; a staff writer at Gaye Magazine; and a contributing columnist at Iansá Magazine, where readers can find more of his published work. You can also find his work here on Substack and on Instagram, and threads @sainttreyw . For inquiries, please email: sainttreyw@gmail.com



What repeats here doesn’t return the same. It deepens.
Your pen is magical!