ICU by Heidi Slettedahl

The first trip was after midnight.
Woken from a sort of sleep, I hesitated.
Couldn’t decide on what to wear.
What do you wear?

The second time I didn’t delay.
Got into the car almost as I was.
Hungry, I seem to recall.

The vending machine didn’t work, the quarters stuck inside.
I stayed without a fix of sugar, salt and fat.
Hunger in a waiting room, then next to him, who also wasn’t eating.

Each time I enter more disheveled.
Each time his breath is less secure.

Did I do this the wrong way around?
Shouldn’t I offer a more presentable face?
Be more ready?

My practice at this seems endless.
Except that it is not.



Heidi Slettedahl is an academic and a US-UK dual national who goes by a slightly different name professionally. She has been published sporadically in small literary journals, most recently by Picaroon Poetry, Vita Brevis, Dream Noir and I Want You to See This Before I Leave.