Poor heart didn't know what was coming

Poor heart is pounding unabated;
persistent dog forever mouthing lousy stick.

Back and forth it drums lament into the stuff of rib-cages,
cajoling limbs and lips, 'charge forth!'
astride steady backwash of rash commands.

From East to West poor heart assails steady chest;
from North to South poor heart strums chords through open mouth;
from top to bottom poor heart wails, lest she end forgotten;
and resounding on and off the walls of nearby organs
poor heart heads a noisy chorus.

Never a muscle who could cry harder,
never did tissue need so many tissues,
never was a beating thing so beaten
or so willing.

Two eyes looking out of train windows
see the same leaves again and again
at two-second intervals:
they never cease to be remarkable.

All is for you,
my beautiful wandering metronome.



June 2009.