Harvest of My Bleeding Heart



The Dog by Francisco Goya


(press play for audio)

You are the full picture,
The bright flag,
The pride in the stance
Of the forest’s stag.

You are the swing, the sway,
The sweat, the swagger;
The puncturing
to-the-depth-of-my-heart dagger.

You are the claim, the clause,
The punctuation comma pause.
The still, the stay, the stop, the collar,
The resistant and persistent staller.

You are the ice, the chill,
The fire, the thrill.
The relief, the reward
The hammer to my sword.

You are the dead, the damper,
The destruction of a cureless cancer,
The flailing, circling scythes,
And the empty longing in my eyes.


2 thoughts on “Harvest of My Bleeding Heart

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