A Guilty Heart

Dec 04, 2025

I am the mound of plowed snow, obdurate, put in my place by a man

I am the fallen limb, from a parent who is aging in place

I am the tear from laughter, sweeter than I appear

I am the fanned-out hand of playing cards, held close to the breast

I am the dried-up felt tip, unable to express

I am the squirrel darting after its mate, playful and nimble; I leave tracks

I am the decomposing carcass, abandoned til my bones are discovered or turned to compost

I am the sleeping pill, anesthetizing, slow-acting, effective to knock you out

I am the water gurgling down the drain; I escape

I am the bird with its impatience

I am the jitteriness of coffee

I am the whisper of snow

I am the overburdened branch

I am the eddy sent spinning when you walk past

With shimmering fringes

With yarn tassels

With broken handles

With untied laces

With sunglasses on

With a smug grin

With shaky legs

With steam rising

With true admiration

With night sweats

With sweat on my upper lip

With sweat in my cleavage

With clutter on one side of the bed

With a blindfold on

I am the chime of a grandfather clock, calling for next

I am the bite of teeth, bergs clashing

I am a suitcase of screams

I am a blanket of bills

I am a troop of waves

(We are parades of dogs)

I am the cane held in the shepherd’s mitt

I am the mark of royalty

I am the camouflaged booksafe

I am the thump of a closed fist on a guilty heart