Poem for the Sock That Came Back Alone
A domestic elegy in one laundry cycle.
FROM THE MASTHEAD
Theo Finch
Theo Finch writes poems and fragments that make a little noise before deciding to leave.
His favored subjects include public transport, forgotten instructions, the stubborn afterlife of ordinary objects, and the strange dignity of getting almost everything wrong.
FROM THIS DESK
Fragment: Voicemail From a Number That Doesn’t Exist
Eleven seconds of silence, one sentence, and a callback number with too many digits.
After the Smoke Detector Stops Chirping
A poem about silence arriving twenty seconds too late.
Night Bus With No Destination
A late bus, a sleeping city, and a driver who keeps passing the stop.
Elegy for a Password I Can No Longer Remember
Eight characters, one capital letter, and the end of an era.
Poem for the Person Who Keeps Reheating the Same Coffee
A small poem for the mug that has seen too much.
Fragment: Instructions Found Behind the Dryer
Someone left directions. They become less practical after step three.
Fragment: The Receipt in His Coat Pocket
A coat, a receipt, and one line item that changes the whole evening.
Poem Found in a Laundromat Dryer
A small poem about lint, quarters, and the private weather of lost things.
A City That Chews Its Own Tail
A poem about late buses, neon omissions, and the appetite of cities.