my heart

“Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine -- If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him -- Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse -- It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not?”  - Heathcliff - Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte



my heart
by @aladreth antoinette brown
copyright 2012


mankind, when he is losing...
grasps
the balloons the man lover
tie to the bar on the back
of his truck
(three blow to the sky,
signaling becky's death again)
gold, pink, white...
some anniversary I am sure,
he's grasping

I'm grasping - I should
surrender,
Lord.

My heart -

deep inside,
below mounds of breast
with blue lines - milk from
Esdras vision -
under all -

My heart -

it bleeds - hodgepodge
balls on my ovaries and feet,
a goddess smiles ...
whispers ...
where?

oh, on a dock
under a warm sun ...
or floating with a bird on
a marshmallow cloud
Rising.

you gave up
for me -
let me reward you
somehow ...
pay you ... for your kindness,
perhaps kiss the tip
of your beautiful cock.

Let me tell you of my
bibliomancy -
you begin to play, to give in ...
to my silliness, my genre
of earth magic ...
(you do your own, you know)
then ... you see ...
it's real
and I must remember
a prayer of Christ,
an admonition to Martha,
imaginary play of
Ann of Green Gables,
and of course, dreams.

but more ...
than anything
I must remember
my heart,
my heart is weak and foolish
and caring -

God never let me lose
the heart of an artist,
an empath,
a half crazed obsessed lover ...

fixed within my mind
are only ticks, tricks, trickles
from my heart - like electrical shocks -

dear, I fear -
(in my best catherine voice)
oh, I knew I would die
from some heart related
illness - now i'm grasping to live, love
... let go
... surrender

for my heart tells me -
I am not the sum
of 24 hours of labor,
I am not the sum
of marions and fishwives,
cunts or pain

I am the sum of that
beautiful heart -
my life
encompasses
wearing it
on my sleeve,
letting it rule me ...
feeling every single
breath of sorrow and joy

I should delve past
that mound of breast milk
laden flesh
-- down
deeper
to expose
my greatest asset;
yes, yes, yes ...
that silly bitch of a heart

(maybe dye my hair red as well,
a good dye job fixes a lot)

but, oh,
where are my words, my
paints, my feelings?
They are there ...

In my heart.

***

12.05.12
dedicated to the man who listens to me cry ...
(and laugh)
- stephen shaw