At first she believed in the phantom heart
something that beat outside of herself
slowly, the way one watched birds from a window
feeling the air but there was no breeze inside
her room and suddenly it was there, a heart's thump
and her only desire was to open it. A lid
to a box, look inside follow the right ventricle
to the aorta bring it to her mouth, a red wafer
so she would be forgiven. For what
she did not know, but she must beforgiven.
All her life, calling the slow tick
then the tock. It was not a lost leg
or a arm she morned nor absent flesh
but this loss was more of a hum, constant buzz
of never reaching far enough into herself,
finding one place where a heart could live.