footsteps-1954
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.

019

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.