Sundays in Germany everyone

walked. It was common to see

amputees. In the little Chapel

in the park was a list of wartime

dead: they took their soldiers

young, I said, fourteen, fifteen,

thirteen, this is a baby, this a woman

of seventy, civilian dead; we

do not see them on our walls,

no war on our shores, even the walking

wounded are few and far between,

the man with the hook at the fishing

tackle store, quite useful to me,

the full VA hospital in every city

but the veterans are old and dying

out at least the ones who can stand

when we play their marching song.

           Kelley White
KELLEY WHITE was born and raised in New Hampshire and has degrees from Dartmouth College and Harvard Medical School. She has been a pediatrician in inner-city Philadelphia for the past twenty years.   She has had over 250 poems published by more than one hundred journals, including American Writing, The Café Review, Feminist Studies, and most recently, Whiskey Island Magazine and Rattle. A book of my "medical" poems, The Patient Presents, has been published by The People's Press in Baltimore, and a chapbook of very different material, "I am going to walk toward the sanctuary," will be published this summer by Nepenthe Books/Via Dolorosa Press.  Kelley received a Pushcart nomination for an experimental piece from Gravity Presses in 2000, her first year of submission.