Today's poem is by Michael Meyerhofer
Iconography of the Heart
We see it haunting lockets, cards,
carved into the breasts of trees
or fingered into fresh cement,
this shape of what does not exist:
two upside-down teardrops
fused at the ankles, their cries unheard.
In red cardboard, a vault for chocolates.
Synonym for affection at the end
of an erotic letter, soggy with lavender.
What everyone searches for
and promises, yet cannot recognize
the engine that stretches in rain
or breaks like hopelessly precious china,
the pieces skittering across
the dull white floor of the ribcage.
But the heart is not symmetrical,
not an arrowhead angled safely down
it's a meaty crimson fist that swells
like a bladder, about to explode.
Like the part of the beast we discard
or a star a trillion miles away,
seen by us only after it goes nova,
casting itself in death across the wastes
in rainbow arcs of firesomething
we'll wish upon, ages after it's gone.
Copyright © 2007 Michael Meyerhofer All rights reserved
from Leaving Iowa
Briery Creek Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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