Supraventricular Tachycardia
We lay on the beach
saw, from shifting sand,
a friendly fight,
a dolphin show,
a picture of us,
captured by clouds,
Then your heart seemed to skip a
beat, your secondary
valves out of
time leaking
rhythm, missing
rhyme.
Time.
Flying.
Your fast fickle heart,
caught us unawares:
lifeguards suspicious
of superstitious
bucket cures...
...so now we find ourselves
not with grace and style
but wringing hands held,
sirening to white tile sterile
almost lay-to-rest rooms.
Almost out of time
There,
upside down, lovely, lonely.
Your eyes...
ache my impotent soul...
as a piece of your heart is found
beating out of control.
They’ll cut you open and burn it out.
Without poetry or love,
and just a drop of precious blood
would frenzy the circling sharks,
but the white knights put on their sterile gloves
and fix your broken heart.
(2014)
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