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Monday, 24 July 2017

Arrhythmia

beccastadtlander

Arrhythmia

The heart of a bear is a cloud-shuttered
mountain. The heart of a mountain’s a kiln.
The white heart of a moth has nineteen white
chambers. The heart of a swan is a swan.

The heart of a wasp is a prick of plush.
The heart of a skunk is a mink. The heart
of an owl is part blood and part chalice.
The fey mouse heart rides a dawdy dust-cart.

The heart of a kestrel hides a house wren
at nest. The heart of lark is a czar.
The heart of a scorpion is swidden

and spark. The heart of a shark is a gear.
Listen and tell, thrums the grave heart of humans.
Listen well love, for it’s pitch dark down here.

Hailey Leithauser

I don't know. Don't ask me. Poems are puzzles, or mysteries, or something between. But they do unfold, if they're true, even if it's slowly, even if it happens over a lifetime. All I know about this poem is that the words and images are arresting -  they catch me up. After each line, I stop dead and envision it, taste it, and I don't know why it works. 




  

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