Push – Alicia Hoffman

O morning of no obligation, morning of frost,

frail and white, clinging like an exoskeleton

to each green blade of grass, O morning

of shuttered blind, drawn drape, locked

door. Here is the key, the missing piece

of puzzle, artifact of what once was

thought lost. The beloved toy.  Abandoned

mitten falling in the field. The single sock.

Here is the cardinal, plump and bright

from winter’s rich berry. Here is the star

hanging solo in the middle of the sky,

forgetting to sink back to the same invisible

burn. O Morning, it remains. It stays its blaze

as the sun competes with the attention

of a million gadgets, noises close and distant,

small duties I attempt to accomplish with zeal.

O morning. If you stay a little longer, if I push back

the list for one more hour, if I place my body

to listen close enough and for long enough and

my breath slows down enough and my heart

recedes its beat enough I feel deeply enough

the gravitational push of my own bones’ rotation.

Originally from Pennsylvania, Alicia Hoffman now lives, writes, and teaches in Rochester, New York. Author of “Railroad Phoenix,” (Kelsay Books, 2017) her poems have appeared in a variety of journals, including Softblow, A-Minor Magazine, The Penn Review, The Watershed Review, Radar Poetry and elsewhere. Twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, she holds an MFA in Poetry from the Rainier Writing Workshop.