AS I HEARD IT

one morning I walked here
half how I dreamed it

aisles of sourdough bread
and fruits before their season

I was becoming all at once
a sleepwalker and he

idling in some smaller horror
the wasps that die in figs

presses thumbs to my heavy eyelids
ferries me far as coin

my skin all purple and pith;
my heart like a plum skinned

plenty to fill aching hands-
to soften hunger and it’s just

as I heard it: six seeds
and a spring with no thaw

as I heard it: a mouthful of want
and a season to swallow it all.

it’s morning still but I could
make time for pulling the blinds;

do the laundry another day.
I want rest like when

I lay my head on his chest;
to sink like an aging peach to its pit

the fever that is waking
into the same day twice-

to wring sleep from each other
meaning nothing by it

and the sheets are soaked through;
and the street lights come on.

McCaela Prentice is a Maine Writer and graduate of St. Lawrence University. She is currently living/writing in New York City and working in healthcare. Her poetry has previously been featured in Mineral Lit Mag, Lammergeier Magazine, and Honey & Lime Literary Magazine. McCaela was also an honorable mention in the 2019 Small Orange Emerging Woman Poet Honor.