Kelley White
your lips, a whisper of crime
buzzing against my cheek
and the trees blazed
in someone’s holy grace
not yours, I wouldn’t hear your voice
and you wouldn’t hear mine, voice
that would only split
your eardrums, then silent grace
as I closed your eyes—crime
when your anger blazed
and your slapped my cheek
first one and I turned the other cheek
to you time and again, my voice
was lost. Oh how the sun blazed
behind the night. The star split
night that hid your crimes
and mine. How did grace
come to lead us? Grace
that is not faith. For I both cheeks
bruised and speaking your crime
as loud as any voice
I might ever raise. Lips split
by your anger blazing
there in the night. Of stars blazing
out, spelling out the grace
at a child’s beside, parents split
and tears running down the moon’s cheeks
and the silent O of the moon’s voice
oh child, how did a mother’s crime
Kelley White
stars split, page 2, begin new stanza
punish a child, a father’s crime
stun children’s worlds into blazing
light and anger. A child’s voice
into silence. Oh grace,
teach me to sing. To turn cheek
towards compassion, to split
the differences in our voices, no crime
to split up, we can blaze new lives,
red cheeked shameless, in grace.