Starling Heart

Laying his head on my chest
in the still dark morning, he fell
silent, holding his breath.

I thought I heard something.

He grabbed his stethoscope and exhaled
to warm the metal before pressing it
against my bare skin.

I hear a murmur.

He placed the buds of the scope
in my ears and the room swam away
with the hurry of my own blood:

a beat then a swish—wind rushing
through a door left open, a murmuration
of starlings flooding an open sky.

Hayley Bowen
Latest posts by Hayley Bowen (see all)

Leave a Reply