The human heart doesn’t look at all
like the ones I drew by the hundreds
as a little girl
it’s thick and pale in parts
like a man’s leg
with tubes sticking out of it
like drain pipes
this idea that it’s breakable
is absurd
it’s your inner fist
a workhorse
sending the blood from your lungs to your legs
like a chain of men throwing water
on a fire
listen
it is beckoning you
nothing beats a drum
that does not want to be heard
it is showing off
its muscles
use it
run it like a horse
be lavish with your love
protecting it
is like going hungry
so as not to offend
the tongue.