Pulse

From my window

I can see the row of lampposts.

Just from the right of the middle

One of the bulbs keeps going in

and out.

You have to pay attention to catch it.

Every few minutes it will flicker.

When I saw you this morning

I had to actively train myself

to breathe,

inconspicuously.

Pushing the air out of my lungs.

I prayed you wouldn’t notice, but I wondered

if you did the same.

Written Spring 2019

Art Credit Helene Graham

3rd place winner of the English Department's Aherne Poetry Contest, and published in the Merrimack Broadsheet 2019