BREATH
When I sit beside you in church,
I can hear you breathe,
I rarely think of you so mortally.
I can feel you lean back in the pew,
can feel the creaking wood against
your push—
your shoulder muscle and bone,
can feel the vibration of
your anxious foot.
If I glance over I can see
the profile of your face—
long nose, brown eye,
angle of jaw line,
your still and placid gaze,
dark hair falling beside.
When we stand and sing,
I can hear your voice
sound with mine.
Eyes close, hands lift—a moment sublime.
Hands fall, eyes open—
rapture subsides.
The benediction is said;
we move to leave.
We stretch our arms; we yawn and blink.
Did you forget?
You and I are finite things
depending
on a breath.
Katherine E. Schneider is an adult ESL teacher and poet residing in Norwalk, Connecticut. She grew up in Somers, New York and attended Fairfield University for her Bachelor of Arts majoring in English and Visual & Performing Arts. Afterwards, she was part of the inaugural cohort of Fairfield University’s Master of Fine Arts in Writing. Her poetry has previously appeared in Ruminate, Blue Line, and The Poetry Porch.
The Paddock Review 