Poetry by Kelly Sue White

               ​Boris Kasimov CC




“I died in that house on Friday.”

he said it plainly               its weight pressed my self-         centeredness out of          my chest leaving 
empty    feeling                the space at the bottom              of the exhale

who was it         Jesus appeared before?              Mary and she didn’t believe 
or recognize him            i am not Mary and he,                                 legs twitching from 
detox, is no Jesus                          but there is something here,    his breath 
in cold puffs       against the passenger window


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                                                                                                                                  So that none of us will ever die
                                                                                                                                terribly but stay always like this
                                                                                                                                                                         Ross Gay


libby says something about needing
a cigarette        Deana hands her one with a light

cups her hand around the flame          wind
blocked              need met             let me 
 

remember her    summer brined and breezy     
as her hand holds eddy around libby’s flame  

june rivered out warm and coppertone 
- scented            safe                     turn 

my face from the foil                  the frayed rope of 
august                let me

remember

​


Kelly Sue is a poet, recovery advocate, artist and mom. She lives in Richmond, Virginia with her two kids and her partner, Dave, two dogs, a fish, and a Guinea Pig. Kelly's work was published in Mosaic, and others forthcoming. After 24 years of starts and stops, she graduated in 2020 from the University of Virginia. She is in the MFA program at Randolph College, just beginning her publication journey.