A Swollen Heart (in the early morning)

a swollen heart
changing size in the early morning
ghosts haunt and billow freely
within its roomy confines
they are, in defiance of unearthly composure
locked in conversation
with my partially clenched fists
the muscles and veins are unconvinced
the palms, already gave their consent

and I do know
I am in the poetry
it takes me, has taken, will take me again
to a gripless place, unhinged
to a place broken open
where only poetry dares say
that this place, is a place

poetry, comes regardless
poetry, of ambiguity manifested in desire
poetry, of confusion whispering clarity
poetry, that marches out, raises its flag
sets up camp
then pillages the village

so I will wrestle fiercely with the air again
crack my whip and steal the sun
heave my body with throes of passion

then save the file
(so I can sleep)

©2007 C. L. B. Callender