Posted by: scintillatingspeck | February 8, 2014

Archived heart.

I am told: Take your only heart.
Press it like a wildflower in a dictionary,
dessicated and flattened.

Once it’s as thin as tissue paper,
pale, unscented,
classify it according to the catalog.

(I am told: The creators of catalogs
know where your heart belongs
more than you.)

Stamp the date on it.
Slide it into this protective sleeve.
Place in the acid-free box.
Place the box on the numbered shelf,
in the numbered aisle.

Presumably preserved.
Meticulously labeled.
We’ll keep it safe.
We’ll keep us safe.

 

I tell you: Did you really
think I would surrender
the blood of me?

Did you think I would crush
that pulsing muscle
on the stingy chance
a scholar
finds the lifeless fibers,
long past expiration?

 

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Responses

  1. That’s exceptionally nice.


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