Give me back my heart
Pretend I didn’t write it
Say it was the clouds
(Olympic Rings; Squaw Valley, Lake Tahoe, CA)

(Olympic Rings; Squaw Valley, Lake Tahoe, CA)
The left of my brain, omnipresent, churns in the background, planning to acquire real estate, shaking hands with all my synapses, as a snake, propagating the message, “don’t ask for too much.”
The whole of my heart, hope-trained, stands in the line of fire, clad in silvery full armor, bravely readying my skin, deflecting endless barbs of propaganda, imparting the beautiful truth, “I am her too much.”

He almost asked me out I know
But the law got in the way
I gave him my sky, I preyed him, go
Tell what the stars have to say
Each night I’ve dreams I wish to share
But time’s gotten in the way
It’s midnight, and no one wants to care
A woman’s prophesied play
I’m watching out for his soft heart
But my ache, it wants its way
It’s likely I’ll only know such art
From afar, my eyes kept at bay
Each of us has a Saturday song, resting patient in our heart
It stays there, soft, anonymous -almost nary a one makes its way
Upstairs and outward it ought go, and easy it must stay
Into our head, that our ears could hear to conduct our hands and feet
Combined ethnicities and God-ward now, as it should have been
Take her, the song, into your arms, and find together, the dance
(Architecture Credit: Frank Lloyd Wright; Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin)


