The Remembering He Left Behind

National Poetry Month|Day 4| April 4 | Prompt #4:

Prompt— Write a 14-line poem with a clear turn (volta), a moment where the poem reverses, deepens, or contradicts itself. Let the first 8 lines set up a problem, a scene, or an argument. Let the final 6 lines crack it open. You choose the subject, and you can choose whether to rhyme.

the remembering he left behind
by Saint Trey Wooden

he misplaced his own name first, set it down
somewhere between yesterday and the chair
that still remembers his weight. the walls knew him
once, spoke him back to himself in quiet hours.
now they watch. now they hold their breath.
he looks at me with eyes full of distance,
as if i am arriving from a country
he has no language left to enter.

i say my name, and it breaks against him.

still, there is a knowing that will not be taught away.
it calls beneath the forgetting, low and stubborn.
something in him reaches, not for memory
but for the shape of being held.
and i, standing where he cannot stand,
become the remembering he can no longer carry.

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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