Stephanie Seabrooke

Object Permanence

The night I found you in the snowbank behind my eyes
was starless and scattered with heretics. They guzzled kerosene

and burned down the barn and I laughed along with them
like someone who’s discovered money isn’t real. Their queen wore

a crown of sternums and sang into my spine as I spotted
your champagne head on the horizon, as startling as mercy.

The drifts were no match for your mewling black magic
and soon you were back with me in bed, smiling in your sleep

and shit staining the sheets. Now I have scorch marks at
the nape of my neck and birds of prey try to pluck you

from the patio. They should know by now a nest perched
on a powerline never kept me away. I could fetch you

from the rings of Saturn. Our latch is a law of nature, as
binding as the tide that took us in August. We were almost

a tragedy, doomed to commune forever with eels and angelfish,
when something on the shoreline heaved us home. It was my

winter witch, moaning bone music while my back
buckled under your weight.

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Stephanie Seabrooke’s work explores identity, the subjectivity of perception, and the inexorable march of time. She holds a BA in English from Towson University and resides in the Baltimore metro area. You can follow her on Twitter @StephSeabrooke.