We Are the Seams of Everything by Erica Schreiner

We are the seams of everything
Like where the tide, for the first time today, rushes onto the land
And again
And again

We are the seams of everything
We are midnight switching to 12:01am

We are the first blaze of fire basting over the horizon
And we are the sudden absence of it again

We are silence just after a crater hit Oregon land
And we are the water drops tapping the pooling water

We are everything that is falling from the sky
Like the shooting stars, the imprints we suddenly see, billions of years later

We are the seams of everything
Your opens once eyes now eyelashing

Equators and such
Finish lines
A baby thing’s first smack on the back and sudden gooey gasp

We are the seams of everything
Cross over from darkness to light
The blink on of a flashlight
My voice cracking for the first time
A plant before a plant is just a seed, just a seed
A seed cracking open
Words never before spoken
Out shoots a fragile and strong spike of green
Earthly thing
The precursor to fruit, just a seed, just a seam

We are the seams of everything
Yin and yang, a circular polka dotted heart, broken
Words softly spoken
Birth of tadpoles and calves and crawdads, jellyfish, atoms, axioms, atomic nonsense
Sound, scent
Cinema credits

Eardrums ringing from sirens
with my head buried inside your chest, your hands cupped over my ears, shelter from the sounds

We are the seams of everything
The first time your hand touched mine and our hands looked away and found each other
time after time after time

Yes, we are the seams of everything
Like blue hour, dew on the grass, silent cows
Watching us run bare and free and wet and feet
Off the grid, somewhere where no one knows
The first submergence under water when the air is warm but not that warm but we wanted it to be warmer
Okay it’s cool but we dive
into the lake we made
jumping from the tire swing
with all the barefoot dreadlocked sweethearts on the commune where I spent some compartment of this life
and bonfires
and fireflies
and night
battery operated radio playing old CDs from a time when we used to buy CDs
like records in the 60s
Oh Nostalgia!
fruit punch mysteries
I braid my hair but I don’t have a hair tie
It falls out
but we’re singing
Until the sun makes its way out of the sky
And up into the sky
And out of the sky
And up into the sky

Leave a Reply