falling from cornices.
Heart wants an eclipse in all its pocketses.
Heart wants a dragon moon with you
looking up at the sky,
Orion‘s Belt cinching you up to the stars,
Betelguese sends signals to the Andromeda Galaxy
where Jackie Gleason reruns are tumbling
like polished stones among the stars.
Heart wants a warm bed with flannel sheets in winter.
Heart wants a cat curled up by the fire.
Some say the heart is just like a wheel, or so the song goes,
but heart is studded with rose thorns
and weeds on the ground. Heart cries, lacrimosa,
red tears of justice measuring out the length of our days
to the end of our death. In this we all dream
of other places where the ties that bind us
are made of spiderwebs and hope.
5/12
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