by Rodd Whelpley


I don’t know if leaving

is when buds nub the branches

or when pale colors drop

Your apples waiting,

unattended on a shelf

Grudging, tacit permission

for my mind to wander

from duties when I write

The last boy driving to that college, or

Your poring through a book’s gilt pages,

searching for those misremembered lines

This plate of scraps from a slice

of the cooling pie you set

on our fully outstretched table,

as if, indeed, company were coming.


Rodd Whelpley manages an electric efficiency program for 32 cities across Illinois and lives near Springfield. His poems have appeared in Tinderbox Poetry Journal, The Shore, 2River View, Star 82 Review, Kissing Dynamite, Barren, Shot Glass Journal, The Naugatuck River Review, The Chagrin River Review and other journals. Catch as Kitsch Can, his first chapbook, was published in 2018. Find him at www.RoddWhelpley.com.


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