Sunday, November 2, 2014

The heart escapes

And is it the same things
we say or don’t say as
we talk past each other
the same things that pour
through the air
between us, smashes
into our ears, our hearts,
because we are designed
to talk into hearts

to each other
with each other

the heart

hearts can forget
not remember

it’s not enough
you can’t force
hearts to talk
to hearts

not on my own
my own life
but my words come
quickly now
easily, a torrent

perhaps with blood
like poppies, red
growing in the field
not ceramic but
red poppies, thousands
germinating in each life
left in each grave

a poppy is unmarked
no monument with words
fading from rain
chipped by heat

the heart escapes

Photograph by Fabrizio Conti via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

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