Black Heart/New Poem – Rough First Draft
I stuck my fangs in deep,
said you smelt of ammonia
and could drink the city dry.
All you’d wanted was me
to eat the dinner you’d prepared,
neatly cling wrapped and put
on its own shelf in the fridge.
The dinner where everything
was arranged so nothing touched
and the peas were an even number.
You told me you were shocked
by the sudden appearance of my
collar bones. You stood with the
dinner plate, both hands trembling.
I continued butchering, asked
if you wanted a medal for getting
some shit out of the freezer.
You were so brave in the face
of my heavyweight cruelty,
my aimless insensitivity.
There were tears in your eyes
when you said I had a black heart.
I told you that I knew you didn’t mean it.
You got so upset one day you said you
felt dizzy. I laughed, put my fingers
around my wrist, showed you what I could do.
You cried even harder.
You talked about the hostility of my ribs
in our family sessions. When the shrink asked
if you did anything for me. you had to think.
You were quiet for a long time, and I stared
to spit balls of tissue at you.
Eventually you said how you would always
take your shoes off when going up the stairs
just in case I was sleeping.