In the poem,
I check the door
one last time.

Then I get up
from the desk
and check it again.

The handle is cold.
The chain holds.

Back at the desk,
last is waiting
where I put it.

I would like to keep it.

I have read poems
where people leave the house
and the house remains
a house.

I want to know
how they do that.

I had hoped
to learn it
by writing the sentence.

Instead, I cross out last.

I read the poem aloud.
It takes a little less time.

On the submission form,
a question:

Is this work complete?

I tick yes
and send it

before going back
to check the door

O Quiet (they/them) is a queer Scottish poet writing about chronic illness, mental health, identity, belonging, and hope. Their work draws on lived experience, overheard conversations, and ordinary objects: receipts, chairs, pill boxes, and the stories attached to them. They are interested in how a small detail can unsettle an assumption or change the direction of a poem.