Peer between my breasts and through my sternum
And you will not find a heart but a furnace
A massive, ominous, belching furnace with an aortic valve
Made of sturdy iron, atrium walls of char and black
It's a storehouse of un-meltable, plastic spines
Strewn in yellowish, mangled globs across the bottom of the bowl
Non-committal destruction, polluting the oxygen that it breathes
The fire, that is, hungry and full of mischief
5.10.16
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