Saturday, October 22, 2005

Linda Pastan


No one has a heart like yours
the doctor tells me, studying
the CT angiogram with barely
concealed excitement --

an explorer in white
discovering a tropical island --
exotic foliage instead of
the body's usual geography.

And he shows me the picture
of my heart proudly, one artery
instead of two snaking from the aorta,
dividing only later

into tributaries that nourish
this aging body: white cells
and red cells paddling madly
towards the organs on shore.

Oh unchartered rivers of blood!
Why am I heartsick, heartsore,
heavy hearted? Haven't I always known
my heart was different?

From: Shenandoah - Volume 55 Number 2 (Fall 2005)


Patry Francis said...

How well she describes the feeling of being a poet in the world.

Nick said...

"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession." ~Robert Frost