idearound.com double-click poem to go to next ← contents

my heart

my heart is his heart
my breath is his breath

and it hurts
because I’m still alive

my whole chest hurts

I press in hard
with both hands
to relieve the pressure

and I do
what Elinor taught me to do
for my stomach
and take my baby heart
and my baby lungs
into my arms
and rock them
rock them

to comfort

safety

and sleep

from Steve — poems from a friend — Bill Eberle

Thomaston     February 25

© 2019, Bill Eberle