The heart is a coiled hose
of ventricles and corpuscles, dear one,
winding and twining in ways
too complicated to untie.

And why would you want to?
Your dented heart has acquired
asteroid-sized impressions that have
bruised it, certainly, but also softened it,
as well as causing it to ache—sometimes
with sorrow, sometimes with love.

Honey, we see your heart hose lying there,
down for the count for the moment but
doing its job keeping you upright
in the world, no matter the latest
acquired hurts.

We’re not going to sing the pick-yourself-up
song—not even hum it. You decide when
you’re ready to rise. But we’ll be here
with a hand to help you up when
it’s time.

And if you like, we’ll sit with you
and watch your heart hose pulse
as we feel ours, too.

Watch, beloved—
they’ll synch even before we touch,
hearts finding hearts, as they do,
beat after beat after beat.