Tag: heart book

Segmentation

Some sturdy–lipped dish it is,
 holding my heart upon the stump
 to catch the dredges
 as 5 times with the razor–edged axe you strike
  precisely cordoning it into 10 wedges.

I swoon as you daintily indulge each bite,
 dousing each sliver in its pulp
 before each tear
  when your incisors sink into my flesh;
when you swallow, it is my heart’s contentment.

OK, Cupid

My still heart beating around
 my fixed gaze,
mischievous imp mocks me,
 places a bow in my manikin hand
 and an arrow in my wooden fingers.
His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs
 into a dangerous tension.
In my disbelief I hear
 his flushed cheeks command:
“Take her out!”

Gutted

Weary wounds
 down the sides of the front of my torso
 raw from my continually
 cutting you out of my lungs:
I had made a bold play of it once;
 now I stare —
 take slow gapes of resignation.
The fishhooks I withdrew —
 cut each one in half with my knife —
 they keep coming;
 there are so many now.
I look up to the sky
 filtered through the surface of the water;
 who knows, maybe, of a sudden:
  Yank.

Companionship

All I’ve left is me little torch.
The grand visions on cave walls
 descend into darkness.
Come. There is enough for two.
Let us make a meal of it.

Glimpses

By your armor, I’m taken, wondering:
your eyes gleaming, unmasked,
your body dancing, unencumbered
 and light.

{ your sword nicked my knee;
   the spilling of blood
   grants me brethren see
   — and thou still war?
   Oh, go wounded and stay wounded
   wherefore I, bad in war and in peace,
   may nurse you. }

Muse

You loosen my strings.
You unravel each one.
You remove them from the frets.
I suppose I'm done playing, now.
Then, you return.
You bring back to me my music:
fit as a fiddle —
and strum.

Beat My Heart

My heart sits atop
anvil, in furnace,
eager for the hammer
to bend down and squash it
repeatedly,
for its tendrils to grab hold
and embrace hammer and anvil
into one amorphous pounding.