the wild blue night ends but then there is the next morning
where the white light is subdivided by the white blinds
and the light that remains is further subdivided by my eyelashes.
& your breathing against my back & the hum
of the air through the vents & beneath those sounds
i can hear my heart whispering to itself in the quiet house of my chest.
it says brooklyn apartment. says picture the same key in the same lock.
says imagine another morning. or if one morning
went on for a whole bunch of years.
& i worry there’s something wrong with it. how it talks to itself
like a child. i want a heart that is big and strong
but this heart acts like the tenacious flame of a tiny candle or a clay figure
shaping itself even though i say please be still.
you’re so warm you’re burning up, my darling;
your light on my light, your quiet morphing into mine.
& i worry something’s wrong with me because i
never think about someone dying until i really like them and
then i think about it all the time. maybe it’s the white light
subdivided by the white blinds subdivided by my eyelashes subdivided
by the fear & love like a spool of yarn
unraveling all by itself.
the kind of short dream i have when i’m half-awake and you’re
half-asleep. the kind of long dream i have that chases me
through weeks. here is the imaginary animal of my heart.
could you help me choose a name for it.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Lily Nobel (she/her) is a writer splitting her time between Ohio and Colorado. Her fiction can be found in manywor(l)ds and is forthcoming in Maudlin House and Sans. PRESS.
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