Poking around web journals today (read: not reading well, just browsing), this poem wrapped its hands around me, like READ ME KEEP GOING YES CONCENTRATE YES. My mind was foggy; now it’s not foggy. So compact, so structured, yet strong, like good father hands to pop me on the chin, say get back to work.
Get your mind right with the first section:
Men of science say it is miraculous: cut the heart open and it will shine out like a ruby. Left overnight, it becomes a hive, a city, a moon to sleep in. They say to tunnel through the arteries we would need a map. We would need to spread the ribs open like a fan, even if it’s winter. Once, when a whale washed ashore, we buried the heart in a crater. We felt it swimming through the soil, under our feet. During a flood, a child saw it breaching through the trees.
Also, this issue holds a cool thing by Ravi Mangla called Ways that has me all foggy again, but more like a good person just rearranged my life. (Mangla, you might remember, was Vouched by Laura recently.)