Traveling upward from my left ventricle,
they make a mad dash out of my right ear
and left eye.
I could not piece together an explanation
even if I were handed sentences and glue.
In some minuscule way I refuse
to even pause to reflect on needing to be newly sewn,
like a sweater that has lost one thread
to an exposed nail in unfinished drywall.
The shirt can only really be the same with that thread,
though it would be whole with another, it's just a different shirt.
...but one I'd wear if it kept me warm.
1 comment:
Dan, as always thanks for your beautiful poem...I know the heart that beats beneath it and I've been so deeply blessed by it...we're really looking forward to celebrating you and Jeanine in August and looking forward to a lifetime of continued companionship with you...keep going....
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