Spoken Heart by Erin Dellinger
art by Esther Hilsenrad
I don't think I understand love I only live it:
God made the sky for us to crawl into after
we peel back cerulean from blue and milk clouds
out of our softly spoken words about threading thunderbolts
through the wheels of our fears and making something of a spectacle
in places for looking upward.
The child roared his arms out wide he
hung on to dreams with tiny finger tips.
I think you make me so I can't stop staring.
I found people with my own eyes and we started dancing.
A poor man with tuna fish in his hot dog bun told me about euthenasia
and how that's one answer in this multiple choice questioning world
and I thought yeah people are dying but not because I let them
and I stormed into my heart and released a hello, when it spoke and
told me there had never been goodbye.