Alice Smith

“It should weigh nothing.
Just wood and air,
a shape meant for sitting,
a space meant for filling.
But somehow, it carries more than I do.
This chair—
your chair—
still leans slightly to the left,
still remembers the way you sat,
one leg tucked under,
hands resting lightly on the arms,
as if you were always about to leave
but never quite did.”
― Mason Carter, Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind

“She stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of coffee and something like cedar and ash clung to the air between them. Her tone was gentle, as though placing stones in a stream, guiding the water without disturbing it.”
― Mason Carter, Her Name is Anarchy: a novella

“The mattress has not learned you are gone.
It still bends in the shape of you,
dips where your weight once settled,”
― Mason Carter, Saltwater & Smoke: Poems of Almosts, Goodbyes, and What We Leave Behind

“Yes,” she said. “Truth is what survives verification. Different tongues may call it different names — honesty, fidelity, justice, love — but when you strip language away, what you have left is material behavior. Action. Roots. The rest is perfume and poetry.”
― mason carter