Split Second
Heidi Seaborn
In the before
dawn’s fuzzy
incoherent light
you say listen
you say you hear
a washing
machine I think
you hear my blood
washing
through my arteries
my heart filling
flushing
but okay I’ll listen
& hear through
the open window
snails
nibbling
on young grape leaves
leaving a thin
trail of drying slime
& naked stems
sometimes
I hear the mouths
of moths
on my cashmere
sweaters
the weather of wing
dust falling
on sleeves
I take small stitches
to mend
the holes
sometimes
a spider casts off
its web to dangle
into the fragrant
air of our sleep
I listen
for humming
the song you hear
in the space
between
us the bristle
of your skin
pressing
against my nape
where I lodge
the fears
that queue around
the block of me
as if waiting for
a concert I often hear
their conversation
like an electronic
toothbrush
or a horsefly
circling
until afternoon heat
slows each wing
beat
every fear
hovers for a split
second
before
leaving me
fanning sluggish air
pulling my hair
off my nape
sweat tracking
a thin streak of salt
a snail trail
maybe
in the shell I lug
it’s the brain of me
thinking always
thinking of what (?)
thinking of what
to eat thinking
of espresso’s whir
& shush
the soft whip of milk
an eggshell crack
such a brightness
in the pan
oh & avocado
slipping
from its skin
its pit
heavy like a kidney
an organ I rarely
consider
perhaps you hear
my kidneys churning
washing
my body’s
laundry clean
of regrets—
the clothesline of white
sheets surrendering to
the next thought
in the dream
I woke from
I was racing a brutal
storm
lightning striking
my bare
feet running
a trail of footprints
on fire
running to where (?)
then a cliff
before I woke
to you
holding me
steady wash
of breath
on my nape
& I felt your body
shift as it left
a dream
the way we leave
our home
unlocked
when we walk the dog
in the evening
& then I opened
my eyes
to the before
dawn’s light
fuzzy incoherent
you saying listen
I hear a washing
machine I think
you hear
my blood
washing
through my arteries
my heart
filling.
HEIDI SEABORN is Executive Editor of The Adroit Journal and winner of The Missouri Review Editors Prize in Poetry. She’s authored three award-winning books/chapbooks of poetry. Recent work in Agni, Blackbird, Copper Nickel, diode, Financial Times, Penn Review, Pleiades, Poetry Northwest and elsewhere. Heidi holds an MFA from NYU.
