A Cargo of Green Hearts
in the stories there is a beast, a thing without a face or form
a collection of fur fangs & dank fear. not the metaphor but the thing itself
stories vary but in each of them the beast lives in a cave
or the cellar of an abandoned house afraid that the light will strike it dead
variation aside there is always a girl but how she meets the beast
why she loves it subject to interpretation. don't guess unless you've
been loved so ridiculously yourself
always the girl enters the house cellar cave or forest daily
always she calls to the beast "always, always" with her red clarion her
tender trumpet while it the beast entered called again collapses
back red-eyed into its creche of smashed lightbulbs its tabernacle of
bats which also whispers "always, always" with a cruel violin.
now and again the beast reaches a toe a finger into the light
then draws back into its catacomb of dark whispers its temple of night grapes.
each day the girl calls. each day the girl calls.
then one day she does not. she has given up or has died. maybe
not the story you expected but this is a truth too.
say the beast waits five days or ten before the absence of the girl's
voice draws it out terrified but in love the more. can you imagine
which was greater? how beautiful finally the clean taste of sunlight
or how heartbreaking the bone-snap of loss.
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