Writing Wednesday: “Cardiac”

Cardiac

A body is colloquially
70% water.

Bones range in density
and thus in mass
and gravity’s pull.

How much blood and viscera
contribute to my ““obesity””?

Does each mouthful of spit,
each blood donation,
each lungful of
recreational smoke
make me fatter
and heavier
and more attracted
to the earth?

My heart is full
of blood
of guilt
of love
of speed
of necessity.

My heart pumps
weaker than I’d like,
too slow for my lungs to dance with,
and at least I can change
my muscle’s strength.

But the potency of runny red rushing
from top to tail
tip to crest—
I cannot measure;
weak or strong?
fast or slow?
this or that?

Who deserves a metaphor
from a suffering body
unsure of its

downfalls & struggle & weight?

1 Comment


  1. I love this so much. It has been so long since I have your poems, Coryl! You are for sure the writer I will never be. This is my favorite part:

    My heart is full
    of blood
    of guilt
    of love
    of speed
    of necessity

    Crazy how that is exactly how I feel right now.

    Reply

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