The Binaries: Heartbeat by Carey Salerno
The star sees something it maybe remembers in this concentric movement
The Binaries: Heartbeat
Stop me if you've heard this one already. It starts with a poet and a star and a heart. A two-,no, three-body problem. The poet taps her finger on the bar, less hoping to draw attention than a service. Whatever comes next is surely every consequence. The star flutters its lashes when the tall drink of water appears, never having tasted nor seen such sudden sweetness teeming. The heart hangs its head, just wants its whiskey: its bottle and a glass, if it must take a glass at all. The writers all roll their eyes. The teens come to play their dance beat music over the speakers, liquids pulsing atop the counter. The star sees something it maybe remembers in this concentric movement, the proximity of shoulders, the skin upon which is soon as slick as the fingerbeat heart—the no-good fist tied safely up in its reluctant coronal pericardium. Still, they enjoy watching what enjoys itself. As in red and yellow together appear orange from far away. Nonetheless we're mistaken to see them as such. All stars a choral something. An 808. A mulish thumping. The writers just groan. Whatever it is, they say, it's still more stars and hearts! It's more contemplation of gravity than we're up for right now. The poet as a provisional barycenter knocks down the drinks with her elbow as she talks. Proof of existent force. She is clumsy trying to be tender. When the glasses fall, they shatter and the liquid is everywhere spreading, a signal the heart knows is time to go home, but the star keeps confused by. They are gentle allies. At least, they were at first. The poet was generous to bring them together, even if it was (a little) by force, and when she excuses herself, pushes their chairs closer to cover her absence, the writers will claim they saw it coming all along: the gushing cloud of ardent metals. So immediate. As would any star, or heart for that matter, commence the immaculate genesis of its binary.
The Hungriest Stars (Persea Books, 2025)
I love this poem and I love how you guys are sharing extraordinary prose poetry pieces. As a prose poetry crafter myself, I thank you. I'm very drawn to the poet as that personage sometimes figures in my writings as well so it's nice to see another face of the poet, especially in their favorite or least favorite or simply random bar.
There is so much I love about this poem, and on so many levels. I’ll never say to myself again, “no more stars, no more hearts in your poems!.” as this poet shows that even the most overused can be brilliantly reinvented. I especially love the poet’s elbow (poet in the story) inadvertently knocking the drinks over as she tries to speak “tender"--splash, crash. I’m still laughing. Start to finish, an unforgettable poem gem. Thank you!