I -- my
heart:
(metabolism
endures)
it rushes to catch up,
it is languid in repose,
when hurt, it strangles me.
I am left
empty,
restless,
helpless.
an injured one is dangerous,
my heart becomes
a
vengeful vixen:
she attacks.
later, repair is possible,
sort of: a defense of lies,
illusions
and ideals,
all fortified with disdain,
with spurious wisdom.
my heart:
a single trumpet-bleat,
a subversion of solitude,
of
surrender.
its walls have fallen
in a
lustrous cloud,
it has the pure
rationale
of cosmic need.
II -- two hearts,
mine
and another's
engulf each other.
III -- my heart:
defiant,
continuous,
sometimes in the night,
I
soothe it by telling lies.