Katrina Kaye
with apologies to Stephen Crane
he said it was
my heart
but I
ate of it regardless
devoured each
drop with desperate
truth over sour
tongue
I did not recognize
the taste as my own
my heart
when consumed
becomes part of me
and yet
and yet and yet and yet
my stomach does not fill
I remain malnourished
and I know only hollow
I slip inside cocoon
a meditation
all eyes
look the same and I
boil in fever
the rage passes and I am a
railroad eager
to travel the transatlantic
eager to bypass
all the minutia
that makes up the
daily toil
it is not logical
to traffic in wants,
but I am so hungry
I will mortgage
my future for the satisfaction
of a kind word and
a precious moment.
let me wrap you in the chill
of morning
and offer up a bite
or two
“my heart” is previously published in Scissortail Quarterly (2020).
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