Heartbeats

One beat at a time and that’s how I saw it.

If it moved me, I’d pay it tribute

with a rusty beat;

a trumpet blast of calcium and iron metal,

in body-wide approval.

This is counter-cultural I understand.

But I prefer not to be reckless with my heartbeats,

we’re allotted only so many, you see.

By this method I plan to live 145 years, pain free.

Enter you, and your hand slips slowly into my shirt

Lays to rest on my sterile chest.

Against my will, the regulated valve

Goes off,

at first like a ticking clock

then a metronome set on adagio, then

allegro, then

Presto. And then

Like a jackhammer

STOP STOP STOP STOP Deep Breath, Just please. STOP

Frittering beats, You

You’ve taken my control.

STOP. PLEASE.

Circa 2009

This heart of mine beats in time
to the perfect rhythms, the swells
and swoons of the passing wave,
the steady knockings of pattern.

This heart of mine delights as it toes the line
between what is good and what is right;
always on one side, the same side, still,
the line is fine.

Still, still, still is this line
that dies right when I open my eyes;
dies before the faint outline reveals
a whole new rhyme.
Jazz and syncopated, no rhyme or reason.
A flurry that is violate of both form
and season.
I close my eyes to this bustle-bustle,
this heart of mine, unable to pine, reluctant to shine.

Once a beat, steady as it was, but now, not so.
Silence now. Stillness now.
This heart of mine, taken by the murderous rage of queen quiet. The inane, mundane.
This heart unfree, hollow at the mere age of twenty-three.

Bring out the paddles and revive this heart of mine.
Better to be malignant than benign.
If death and stoppage were to visit, better that
my heart goes out in a beat divine,
than to lie down and wait
for the quiet ripples to form in slow time
to take and conform
to swallow and dine

with this lazy, withered heart of mine.

Circa 2007

Quantity over quality, Jessica J.

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One response to “Heartbeats

  1. Pingback: living « jessica j

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