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Breathing in magnolia blossoms,
we walk the dog along the Sound stick in hand for him to fetch. In the pebbled tide, a baby seal’s body sloshes. When the wind changes, it will wash away. Be eaten, you say. I worry its death. Mother frantic. Pup lost. Forgotten like the baby I failed to carry. In our garden, tight nubs of promise on the apple tree we planted for our anniversary. Tulip heads closed into a baby’s fist wait for warmth to open, new life from earth’s womb. Imagine Easter eggs tucked in the crook of our blooming plum, nesting in dewy hyacinth leaves, mailbox, window frame. Little hands holding life stilled, holding breakfast.
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Heidi SeabornSince Heidi Seaborn started writing in 2016, her poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies including Nimrod, Mississippi Review, Penn Review, Yemassee Journal, American Journal of Poetry and in her chapbook Finding My Way Home. She’s won or been shortlisted for over a dozen awards and prizes. Her award-winning debut book of poetry, Give a Girl Chaos (see what she can do) is forthcoming from C&R Press/Mastodon. She’s a New York University MFA candidate, graduate of Stanford University and on The Adroit Journal staff. |
