July 16, 2008
This land that I tell you of
has skies of glass and all
liquids are ice. Everything is
dull and cold. And alas, my
heart is frozen in a cube
of solid blood. My body lays
near by. It slowly relaxes as
I slowly die. Of a sudden a
light shines yonder, it melts
and warms. It is the sun,
it is you. You can hear the
whipoorwil, whipoorwil, of
the Poor-Will birds. The grass
is not blue, but green and it
bends to the wind. Squirrels
awake brushing by leaves.
My heart twitches like some
fish out of water and there
is a hole in my breast where
my heart aught to be. You
gingerly take my heart, holding
it to you and kiss my snowy lips.
I rise alive, but my heart is
forever in your chest.

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