Dasia Moore

23 Stops on the C Train

My father taught me to love a woman

you have to hate her too.

Today I removed my shoes

at my loved one’s door and tried

to prove him wrong.

I love myself on afternoons like this.

When I have just come from the train.

Something about the finding of her

where I saw her last, something about

crossing the threshold clean.

She opens the door, I close the door,

I forget I hated myself before I loved.

Passing through, forgetting a lesson,

remembering to learn and learn again.

It’s simple, I would like to tell my father,

I remember nothing

because you had nothing to teach.

————— 

Dasia Moore (she/her) is a writer and educator currently pursuing her MFA in poetry at New York University, where she is a Lillian Vernon Fellow. Her poetry and journalism have appeared in publications including The Offing, The Boston Globe, The Nation, Stanchion, and Autofocus.