In the Hallway
A girl pressing her cheek against a door,
doorjamb, or wall beside a door.
Crying probably, possibly
mumbling. That’s it.
Her face is turned away,
you can’t see if she’s pretty.
Which would make a difference
in your quotient of empathy
divided by reluctance
to get involved plus eventual impatience.
And if and how quickly
you escaped the sense
of not being a plausible
savior (someone she’d find
attractive when this is over), or –
long-cherished, firmly-held –
of helplessness. A novelist
cases the hallway, the smells and light,
social class as revealed
by her dress. Or should.
For my part, I (not making this
about me) check
the decaying file, the yellowed partial volume
of memory. Not finding her.
But she exists now, therefore always did
and will, and is both punishment and forgiveness.
Fred Pollack is the author of two book-length narrative poems, The Adventure and Happiness, both published by Story Line Press. Other poems in print and online journals. Adjunct professor creative writing George Washington University.