The Heart, by Marg Walker

The Heart
by Marg Walker

A helium balloon the first time
           slipping upward into impossible blue.

Next time
           a kite.

Fistfuls of perennial he-loves-me-
           he-loves-me-not; pitiful, really.

The currency
           of a spend thrift God.

Work boots and, every now and then,
           dancing shoes.

Fingertips and also, of course,
           fingerprints.

What I dreamed you, repulsed,
           held dripping from your hand.

Pepper spray
           sometimes.

A cello
           solo.

String theory, which is a candidate for the theory
           of everything, which nobody understands.

Marg Walker is a life long writer and student of poetry who is especially drawn to lyrical work with a strong story to tell. Her poems have appeared in Wilderness House Literary Review, Page and Spine, ArtWord Quarterly, The Minnesota Monthly, and Cairns Art Journal.

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