Little Chapel

By RICHIE HOFMANN

 

How do I know

this stark room, the wooden chair,

the antique book in its lap,

the drawers lined with cedar,

the two folded shirts, his and mine,

the map of the Mediterranean World

in a frame, its sea faded turquoise?

Have you come here too?

Is this a place you recognize?

 

Richie Hofmann is the recipient of a 2012 Ruth Lilly Poetry Fellowship. His poems appear or are forthcoming in The New Yorker, Poetry, The Kenyon Review, and Ploughshares, among other journals. 

Listen to Richie Hofmann and Katherine Robinson discuss “Little Chapel” on our Contributors in Conversation podcast.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 07]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Little Chapel

Related Posts

May 2026 Poetry Feature: Arielle Hebert, from Bottom Feeders

ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, / palms dancing in salt breeze. / I take a too-deep breath / and the air prickles my lungs / like an unfiltered cigarette. / Only the tourists are swimming, / coughing through the algal bloom, / eyes bloodshot and skin burning.

Portrait of Daniel Tobin in front of low trees

The Grave Fox

DANIEL TOBIN
No kindred of an earth, it must stalk alone, / or scavenge what the visitants leave behind. // or bird’s eggs, rabbits, the odd neighborhood / cat wandered over from some nearby home. / Its tail affects the lilt of a semaphore; its pelt // a finish of rust in sunlight.

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon?