Single
by Kelley White
rain
yesterday I heard your footsteps on the porch
listened as you paused at my door
I took a breath;
you went away
lace
and I am still waiting, hungry
my hand kneaded the tension
off my brow,
too late, too empty
stitch
carry me home, carry me over
the hollow we made
by our laughter
in the snow
heart
sick, bitter, a muscle in a jar
twitch night and grimaced
the old man
at home
key
who is the angel
who left a shadow
behind
the window shade
box
a child is crying; I may have to carry
that anger, that need, those eyes
that ask me
for time
hinge
break the desert with
a fountain, break the sun
with a rain
of song
leaf
and small, she is a lonely
mother, too many children
to bind
in her silk
drawer
lower the window
take up the sadness
air
out the pain
PAINTING: Footsteps by Kenzo Okada (1954).
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: “Single” is an older experimental piece, previously published in 2004 in Seldom Nocturne. And, yes, I’m still waiting within these scattered moments and images.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Pediatrician Kelley White has worked in inner-city Philadelphia and rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Rattle, and JAMA. Her recent books are Toxic Environment (Boston Poet Press) and Two Birds in Flame (Beech River Books.) She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant.
Reblogged this on dean ramser.
A beautiful composition elegant in its form!
YES!
LOVE this, Kelly.