8
Three Poems by jenna danoy
Heart Murmurs
Bubblegum bursts of embarrassment
tangled in my hair,
and those sparkling yellow
dimple-stars poke holes in my
vision, like your
guitar-strum heartbeat.
I crack my knuckles tough—
what are the rules of ardence
when you see it in the god-flung clouds
of a late summer afternoon? I fret within like the creaking bones
of the Tappan Zee, still too strong
to fracture under stress.
Is the value of a relationship
in metric or imperial? I want to show
my work. Instead I feel the
solar-bounding crush of air on my lungs,
in those tiny crevices it shouldn't be,
where you have been,
where you will stay. Instead, I
settle into blindness.
Illustration by Chelsi Rossi
Instagram: @_chiles