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Tattooed Heart
American Poetry Review, The, Jul/Aug 1996 by Balbo, Ned
One, we saw the stubble; two, he drew his hand over his face And made the sign of the cross over his emaciated body Three, he pulled up his flannel shirt And we inspected the tattooed heart
Fire was the element that severed mankind from fear of the night But when the skin on his chest burst into flame Pink reflections bouncing off the snow And he set about skinning and preparing the deer he'd killed Cutting it into sections to be stored in the skins he'd saved On this particular evening it seemed unexpectedly gentle and kind Chickens running around the coop, whispers of disbelief From the beautiful sunset rose from his home disappearing in distance His facial features inflamed, shot through with fire like the evening sky Yet we reached in for kindling anyway and grabbed air How the spring bulbs generate their own heat Like every midnight raider of the pantry
Copyright World Poetry, Incorporated Jul/Aug 1996
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved
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