I learned walking softly from my father
who lived an hour from the factory
and saw suns rise through a dusty windshield.
He shaved at night. Packed lunch at four-thirty.
Then left like air beneath an ill-hung door.
Except the spring when I was seventeen
when the cupboards clapped and coffee whispered
I should join him and dream about college
bought with union loans and punch-clock dollars.
I said I want a job that takes a tie.
He told me to find one where you can sit.
Now there’s no one left to wake, and my work
is nearly done. I know how best to go.
How I will tiptoe on a creaky floor.
–
Rodd Whelpley manages an electric efficiency program for 32 cities across Illinois and lives near Springfield. His poems have appeared in numerous journals. His chapbooks include Catch as Kitsch Can (Prolific Press, 2018), The Last Bridge is Home (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Whoever Said Love (ELJ Editions, 2022). His first full-length collection is Blood Moon, Backyard Mountain (Broadstone Books, 2023).