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A Note on the 100th Poem

Written on 5/5/25, but unplanned

I didn’t intend to write one hundred poems. There was no grand design, countdown, or finish line. I simply followed the call to write—one piece at a time. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, the number gathered, and shaped itself into a quiet milestone.

This collection doesn’t close out of bitterness or exhaustion—it closes because the arc has curved inward. It has folded itself into something complete. Not perfect. But whole.

Thank you for walking with me this far. I leave these words for you now—to carry, question, keep, or to forget. Whatever you choose, I hope something here stays within you.

I won’t be publishing any new works for now. The next pieces will belong to the book.

Let love be the last good thing.

—Marni