The heart’s the only
hide-out in the body
where the blood
can rest can stop
if only for a moment
the idea of surrender
pure genius one moment
separated from another
that it’s not all running
thing to thing
but a laying-in and
and a pouring-off
though the blood just
goes on wanting wanting out
while the heart closes down
opening up somewhere else
a juggler of smoke
and mirroring liquids
only the thinnest veneer
separating the blue
from the red trains
charging off with
opposite convictions.
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