His heart was a timid animal
embracing itself.
In a brutal preparation for Spring, its coarse fur
gummed up the scissors, jammed the razor
clogged the sink with brown.
By October, his heart was a precise machine
in buffed brass. Humming, ticking,
studded with bolts, pins, rivets.
It was even able to produce tiny explosions
of steam on demand.
7 comments:
Fancy...is that an older one? I think I've read it before.
You are so deep. :)
No, it's the latest. Maybe all my stuff just sounds the same ;)
I'd like to think it was written about one of the Rats . . . but what one? ;)
Wow, Barb just keeps going with the "Old" comments.
I think it is gooD! with a capital D!
I think I will have to read it again.
Mom
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