the holiday heart

On a dark and trembling cliff, I dreamt a heart

peered over the edge, scared of tumbling

and crumbling

just a beating thing, surely an imagined being,

what if that same heart leapt head-first

abyss-bound, would things have turned out any different?

Confused, trembling, wrapped its arms about itself,

a mad heart, a sacred heart, passed the time

counting gales of winds, pushed headlong



passed the hour hurt for love

passed the foolish seasons without accommodation

nevertheless it is my heart

who, passion outpaced by pain

once upon these times


yearns to this night

one heard her shouting

obscenities — all in the name of love.


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