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by Aubrey Brady
How long did you wait in the dark? Or, what was it before waiting— before time? I count everything through the long and short of fleeting moments, the way the past is barely me, the way music only makes sense with rhythm pressing it into the harsh reality of now and then. Maybe the void is a place full of everything that could be— not a dark lack, but a black brimming, holding all the colors in itself, bursting and busted and ready. Always full, always emptied. I want to remember the womb, the closest I’ve ever been to the uncharted world of nothingness, the crumb of heartbeat curled around the center of beginning— settled in, not knowing what it is to wait.
Aubrey Brady studied music at Covenant College and has an MFA in Creative Writing with an emphasis in poetry from Lindenwood University. Her work has appeared or is upcoming in ONE ART, Solum Press, Book of Matches, Ekstasis, Moria, Big Sky Journal, and Barbar. She lives in Montana with her husband, Matthew, and their two children. You can find her online at aubreybrady.com
"not a dark lack, but a black brimming" what a gorgeous line and beautiful poem!!
Wow, absolutely gorgeous. So many stunning lines. One I’ll call out that is so perfect even as it is entirely unexpected: “the crumb of heartbeat…”