Troubled Asset Relief

What you said I shattered was the window
but we both know what you meant. I can’t

recall a single meadow that didn’t slow my pulse.
Though you are far you are on my wing: you

are the sight of an apple in the bathroom
or oils unintended for a wood floor. A fence

ran the length of a field, between two trees
so that, in snow, it looked like stitches

or a fallen rope ladder. Did you know
that three hundred years ago the heart was

a furnace? At this point what else can I do
but follow the precedent I’ve established?

Choose one of the following: at Monticello,
the turnips gave me a toothache, or at Red

Hook, the red bees. Will you laugh if I say, I
beat my heart into a red caul of sentences?

Near the pond I lifted a rock and found life
under it crowded with so many urges. To see

if it’s possible to dig a grave, today I took
a shovel to the field. It is possible and surprisingly

easy to dig a grave! Over coffee, on the phone,
I said to you, it took trillions to prop up

the markets, but what I wanted to say was, I have
beaten my heart into a red caul of sentences.
 

Credit

Copyright © 2014 by Robert Ostrom. Used with permission of the author.

About this Poem

“Doctors once thought the heart warmed our bodies by burning blood and so, if we were overheating, if our humors were off-balance, bloodletting was necessary; thus, the employment of leeches or surgeon-barbers with some fantastic tools like the scarificator and the fleam."
Robert Ostrom