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Heidi Seaborn 


there’s so much I don’t tell you. How the way

you say yes gets me every time. I languish

in the language of our morning. Could grow

old under the moon that bends through our skylight.

Marooned in this late life marriage, I’ve come to desire

our isolation. There’s an elderly couple

that walk hand-in-hand past our home most days.

I’ve stopped imagining us. Sometimes, I bite

off a question as if it’s a piece of chocolate, let it warm

in my mouth, savor the dark sweetness of unknowing.

When first a heatwave and finally a storm killed

the plum tree, I mourned spring and the stupid love

of everything pink. But you cut the plum tree

into firewood, and on my birthday, we burned it all.




After Viewing Helen Frankenthaler’s “Flirt”




haven’t we

oh rosy morning

yesterday a rain-

bow seen

between long-legged

palms reaching


you first

the sun a bit too


everywhere ocean

tide nibbling streets

once I waved to a



and then, we

I hear the future

is green

furry shadows arch

their backs


like cats

come close before


silver the ground

with bells

let’s drink


yes I’m alone

in the cactus

beneath the sunshine

orange and blossoming

all this blush and

bird trill

Heidi portrait  - Heidi Seaborn.jpg



Heidi Seaborn is Executive Editor of The Adroit Journal and winner of The Missouri Review Jeffrey E. Smith Editors Prize in Poetry. She is the author of three award-winning books/chapbooks of poetry: An Insomniac’s Slumber Party with Marilyn Monroe, Give a Girl Chaos, and Bite Marks. Recent or forthcoming work in Agni, Blackbird, Copper Nickel, diode, Financial Times of London, Penn Review, Pleiades, Poetry Northwest, Plume, Rattle, The Slowdown and elsewhere. Heidi holds an MFA from NYU.

Bear Review


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