The Heat Pulses through the Vents

fire

Listen to the Heat Pulsing through the Vents

I’m trying to make a drum out of my heartbeat

Something steady I can rely on:

It won’t work; it will work.

I muddy the beat with my disbelief.

 

Something steady I can rely on.

I’m not a prayer: Hail Mary sticks in my throat.

I muddy the beat with my disbelief.

The elusive divine speaks through babies.

 

I’m not a prayer: Hail Mary Mother of God: can you hear me?

Is that you marking time in the poems I love?

I hold the divine while cradling babies.

They know my beat: eternal and grateful for love.

 

Who marks meaning if poems aren’t read aloud?

In the pauses, genius breathes: I believe in words + spaces.

My beat in stanzas: eternal and grateful to be reading out loud

I make a drum out of my heart & give my scars to these lines.

NSA, 2.20.2018

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