Valentine’s Day Poem*

The lovely Angela found this in her card this year:


A Valentine’s Day Heart

looks nothing like the muscled pump
thumping behind skin and ribs;
instead, its pointed symmetry resembles
more an arrowhead which once, perhaps,
graced one of Cupid’s mystic shafts–
even that which left his grasp a night
fifteen years ago. (He turned his back
before it struck; the arc it traced was true.)
Now, broken from its stem and drenched
in love’s pure distillate, I hand it
back to you and pray your kisses soothe
this precious wound I hope will never heal.

*American Life in Poetry, formerly a regular feature at The O-Files, will not be published here until further notice. To those (few) of you who were coming here for your regular poetry fix, I apologize.

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