I can feel it rattling in my chest
banging and clanging
ill-rehearsed orchestra percussion
out of time and out of present

my heart
dried and hard
makes my soft body a pathetic maraca
to be shaken by indifference
and mis-perception

it was once fleshed out
red and whole
connected to the sky by the golden ropes of your love
fluid and fat
until the grave rind of contempt
made it still and dark
an ebony fossil of melody
a relic of song
a dusty artifact of joyous harmony
encased in the shadow box
hanging on the wall
in the back hallway
where no one
ever goes

so maybe I’ll play it for you
you will weep with obsequy for my lost hopes
I will move you tears with sadness of my own self-destruction
and you will hear the minor key
of my ill soul