(I feel like the ending is a little anti-climax/oversentimental...meh. That whole last stanza needs polishing. I'll keep working on it.)
The Heart
I am filled with light
and blood.
I am tireless.
Ceaseless.
Unrelenting.
With each contraction
I fill you with life
and take into myself
the dregs of blood,
wearied from their
58-second journey.
I wait for the day
when I shudder
and tighten.
When, rigid,
I let the blood trickle in
and rest.
There are names written into my walls,
carved on my stony altars.
The graffiti of one born straddling a grave.
Here is “God” and there is “strawberries”
and here is “Jacob.”
“Jason Willmore holding his little sister.”
“Playmill” and “Kirby Sentria Home Care System.”
“Baby Molly.”
I am aged with the etching
of words.
I began my life before you did
and in the end,
the words written on my fleshy tables
define you more
than my steady rhythmic thump.
4 comments:
I love that you mentioned Baby Molly.
You are beautiful.
This made me cry. It is beautiful, thank you for sharing and for including my baby. You're amazing :)
"Liz."
"Pearl Jam" and "Malad, ID".
"Donairs", "Moesha" and "Minimums".
Love it.
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