Murmur

Murmur

by Jill Talbot

 

I have a heart murmur—they say

I’ve had it since birth, not to worry.

 

I’m afraid I have the same

off beat arrhythmia as you—

a beat no one can dance to—

 

awkward.

 

I tried to rid of your

crooked smile

but instead forgot

how to smile.

 

I tried to use reason

to put this off-beat-heartache-out—

damn straight.

I failed, again.

And again and again.

I didn’t even try to dance.

 

I don’t want to miss you

but it’s the only way to not

lose you completely.

 

Born with a murmur at St. Paul’s,

downtown,

a pink beaded bracelet.

 

And that was the end of the beginning—

until I got on my knees

and begged to have it back.

 

Again and again.

Beating, beating,

I missed you

again.

 

I missed you until

 

I could face a mirror,

beating harder,

I needed you.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s