Photo by David Clode on Unsplash
My friend is saying something “blah, blah…every Friday at eight
while watching Father Brown.”
I imagine her on the sofa, one leg hooked
over the back, a priest looking on.
When I first met my husband, we had sex
every day. It felt like I had one foot planted on the horizon,
the other on a distant star. So much has happened since.
Let’s blow out candles and make a wish on Pisces.
In my dreams, I am leaping off
a star and then I’m a starfish sparkling in a turquoise sea—
a celestial cleansing for a woman
who just wanted to have sex most of the time.
Skirt hiked over my hips. My ass, mooning the universe.
*
The other day, I spotted an ash tree’s bloody sap
and remembered my period. How it would begin
with little flecks, like tears on my white panties.
But that was long ago when I was the woman
who stole every scene I walked into.
These days, I set the timer for eight o’clock on Fridays,
slip my panties off, lie back on the sofa, and wait.
Heidi Seaborn is Editorial Director of The Adroit Journal and author of the debut collection Give a Girl Chaos (C&R Press/Mastodon Books, 2019). Since Heidi started writing in 2016, she’s won or been shortlisted for over two dozen awards and her poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies such as The Missouri Review, Mississippi Review, Penn Review and Tar River. She’s currently an NYU MFA candidate. www.heidiseabornpoet.com