–after Donald Justice
Heart, why do you break constantly, like a dripping faucet? Would a plumber be your proper therapist, wrapping you in tape, delicately turning you with a micro wrench? I’m certain this isn’t the case as surgeons haven’t figured you out and they’ve been trying since Asklepios.
I fell down a flight of stairs once. The experience was just like living with you.
A cruel professor told me I couldn’t be in his class because I was too blind. You were no help, you simply shattered, the way you do, like a frozen glass candle stick dropped on the floor.
Denying me an accommodation an employer once told me I wasn’t competitive enough to work for him. You flew into the closed windows like a bird trapped in a barn.
Even now after years of you, with your fickle and extravagant betrayals, I know nothing about you.
I recover. Walk into the lake in April when others won’t swim. I fight for things I can’t achieve.
But often I do it while you’re in a thousand pieces on the floor.
This is my loyalty to you—I persist in honor of your defects, for at least you feel something.
At least you knew enough to wail.
Planet of the Blind 