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Insulated as it is
By its cushion
Of double walls;
Protected as it is
By ribs standing sentry;
So far from the brain —

The heart lingers.

It must think
Those moments
Of limbo
Between the stay
And the go
Will last forever —

If it never
Does either.

It must think
It is most alive
In the moment
Of suspension
When it squeezes
Life itself out and in
And back again.

Is it aware of its internal irony?
Is that why it lingers so?

To be the subject of so much talk
And to be hollow at its core
Just a conduit for what passes through

It must give one pause, after all.

Posted on August 9th, 2009Comments RSS Feed
5 Responses to Lingering
  1. Now THAT’s poetry! Beautiful.

  2. Yes, thank you for that, MC.

  3. Hey, thanks to both Ann and Kim for not just slogging through my poem but for commenting!!

  4. Who could slog? That is magnificent. Thank you.

  5. The magic of the heart is that IS
    so far removed from the brain
    and can move us in directions our thoughts normally wouldn’t take us.

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