how my heart

. how my heart crept in bed with me
this morning
in the black
in the cool
in the quiet
first, as always, the smell
rising from the heat
blood, down and flesh
then, touch, quivering and vital
tenacious to the pull
clenching and releasing
without divide
can one follow without fixing
hold without strangling
tracing fine bones and pulses
the narrowness of the ribs
feel the swell, the burst
without drowning
without drowning
eyes open, always mirroring
in dark pools
eyes shut
the moment has gone by
like a butterfly, unsettled
it draws itself away.

This entry was posted in connection, hypnopompic, poetry, reflection, threshold consciousness and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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