Arms (poetry month feature)



A poem by Brigid Cooley


There are places that my heart will always beat for. 

For example, the back corner of the library i grew up in, book in hand, sweater on. 

That's a place that makes my heart go double time.


Or, here's indie concert in Austin as raindrops are catching on my eyelashes, shivering next to a kindred spirit, our goosebumps matching. 

My heart kept time to Riptide. 


The beach on a school day in the middle of September. 

Sand stuck in places it will never make its way out of, and salty skin that smells like sunscreen. 

The ocean has its own tempo, and my heart synced up with it.


Then there are the places that I have never been, but that my heart aches for. Yearns for, even.

Particularly, the drive-in movie, being held close in his arms.  

Arms that are as comforting as a quilt full of patchwork promises. 

Arms that have road maps of bruises and freckles and birthmarks that make up a story. 

Arms that I can get lost in while resting my head against a strong chest that is holding in a heart that beats in perfect unison with my own. 


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