Those of you picking up Seattle Met‘s print edition in 2024 will notice something different: we’ve added a poetry page, with selections from local writers curated by our new Poetry Editor, Paul Hlava Ceballos. The following poems, from Luther Hughes, are the first in this series.
This, Too, Shall Be Named
What I crave is the smell of clean laundry:
the blacker blacks of his Calvins. He throws
steak and shrimp in the pan while I knock back
another glass of Crown on ice, and I know
somewhere an uncle is proud. Somewhere,
a hummingbird is heft and full of Seattle’s sugar.
The candle on the table burps magnolia.
On TV, Patrick proposes to David on
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