Sometimes
God has a kid’s face
His
standing by the door, his position of having to wait.
I
paused like a wanderer
My
thoughts going back further
To
take in the land
Through
which my mind travelled.
This
was the winter of 1876
The
clock booming into my ears
There
we stand the way
We
were born
It
is my fate to live another 40 years.
Hannah Piette is a poet living in New Haven. A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Hannah’s poems can be found in Cleveland Review of Books, Chicago Review, R&R, Works & Days, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, Screen Memory, is forthcoming in Spring 2026 with The Year. She’s a PhD student in English at Yale University and an assistant editor of The Yale Review. Alongside Scout Turkel and Samira Abed, she co-edits Common Place, a seasonal publication of poetry and poetics.
