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.