Ears Heavy, Eyes Shut, and: Crossing the Channel Late in the Year
- Ears Heavy, Eyes Shut, and: Crossing the Channel Late in the Year
Ears Heavy, Eyes Shut
What will happen when the last note dies?
Who will have the last word?
Perhaps the bridge is no longer—was never—a bridge but a cliff.
Hand me the thongs.Thongs?You know, those things that pinch other things …
Will the skyscraper become uninhabitable?
Will the tongue become uninhabitable? japonica percheron laburnum bandicoot horned screamer
Allas, allas! now may men wepe and crye!
we execrate the warning moon adult attention bizy bizy bizy deficit i ms u dissociative gratification i ms material disorder V for violent appetite chronic consumption ideation fatigue warning V for strong language gdnt gdnt lv accelerate accelerate the waning— [End Page 73] Swapes middangeard ealra dogra gehwam dreoseð ond fealleð.
What will survive?
Will anyone?
We found her wandering around the neighborhoodin her nightgown. She couldn't remember where she lived.
Words fail us.
Names sink beneath waves. Twilight.
Somewhere a chime.
Will the guardians swallow their tongues? euphonium timbrel oboe piccolo ukulele
Who will sing the world whole?
Crossing the Channel Late in the Year
No one came to see them off, no onethey knew, faces swollen from sleep,shrinking in the dawn.Everyone was friendlier. Everyone wavingdespite the chill, a voice behind them warning. [End Page 74]
The cliffs rose to a deep gold as they askedagain, do we have everything we need?what have we forgotten?Then the cliffs, deep gold, began to sinkin such a way they knew the clothes theybrought weren't going to be warm enough.
Later, arriving, pretty much nothingturned out to be what they hoped.All those ceilings—body of Christ,wafers of glass hovering highoverhead where the calland response thinned to a sigh.Even the angels appearedsmaller, too much like them,not equipped to protect anyone.Much later, unable to determine whetherit was beauty or they who had failed,they didn't want to want anythingeven if it meant getting on a traingoing the wrong direction withoutenough time to correct their mistake.
The bar never closed.Those gone inside were singingas the room tipped up then slippeddown into each swell, their singingthrough the morning slowly giving wayto a low moan, everyone was friendlier,everyone waving, deck slick with bile,no one left standing, no one. [End Page 75]
Carrie Beyer lives in Bainbridge Island, Washington. She is the mother of three school-aged children and received her mfa from Pacific University.
