heart

I’ve been listening
to my heart of late,
no, not listening,
feeling.
Feeling it’s steady throb,
its potent pump,
and hoping it’s as faithful
as I think it is.
Its grown with me,
from a tiny clot
of mothers blood,
into this throbbing thing,
this hefty fist,
clenching and unclenching,
clenching and unclenching,
this pulsar dancing at the centre
of my own private universe,
measuring my days
with its red iron clock,
pushing its rusty, bloody tide
through the rivers & deltas
of my unseen self,
slavishly loyal and selfless
through every single moment
of my living life.

Heart of mine,
I thank you for your constancy,
I thank you that
(so far)
you have never let me down,
never given up on me
during circuit training,
or gone awol on holiday
when relaxation takes so many
into that endless,
stressless,
stay-cation
of the pure,
and dreamless,
peerless,
skies.

Thank you
that you have carried me,
like crazy horse
through the blowing blue-stems
and the massive, bucking,
bloody-headed eupatoriums
of the wild prairie ride of love,
and other times sculled me gently
with almost silent strokes,
down the slow, still river
of yet another pleasant,
unremarkable,
homely
evening in by the telly.

Heart of mine,
I have felt you jumping
like a caged beast,
hammering the bars
with your wild indignation,
and felt you sleeping,
curled and purring,
beneath my hand,
or in my own thrown,
long arm’s curve.

Heart, my heart,
my most faithful friend,
neither of us
are getting any younger,
stay with me to the end
my constant friend,
and forgive me
all my inconsistency.

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