When I press my fingers
Into my chest,
I can feel my heart
A little ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum,
Beneath a layer of tissue thin skin.
I feel that area
Swelling like the salted sea
Like little ocean blooms under a new moon.
If I am quiet and still
I can feel my honey blood
Blazing (like the colour of red amber)
Through my cushioned veins.
I can feel
And I feel it going exactly where it needs to go
To find its purpose.
If I massage that place in my chest —
That place of raw pounding
Where once there was stabbing crimson ache,
I can feel my arteries expanding and contracting
With a full range of motion and freedom it never knew
Before this moment.
*** You’ll look for any excuse to fondle your own breasts, and say you’re touching your heart, wontcha, Sweet Cheeks? ***
*** Heart… breasts… all a part of the same me so… same difference either way, old man. ***