Sunday, December 18, 2011

The heart, slipped through....

Hold it tightly in, grasp the roughness, inhale
to keep poised and aligned, no one needs to know

what slipped through the ribs, unrestrained: your heart,
airtight, packed up, tumbling now and all for what, over brown bread,
over safety nets, over shared chores and shared beds

and something shared that never should've been: your hands,
knitted fast to a blanket, knuckle-white and gripped to last, but

worn things are better worn through; new things are better made
to undo what's been lost: the heart, slipped through
the ribs, unrestrained, and now sewing it anew,

with patches and stitches and rolls of yarn;
needles and safety pins and scraps of fabric, used.

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