My Heart

          after Stephen Crane

he says it is
my heart

but I
eat of it regardless

swallow each
drop with desperate
truth into sour gut.

it must be consumed,
returned to me.

I do not know
the date my blood
curdled and the
bitterness stings
my tongue.

but

I am malnourished
I know only hollow.

to fill the empty
feel the empty

I eat.

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