Monica Ferrell is the author of the poetry collection, Beasts for the Chase (Sarabande Books, 2008), which won the Kathryn A. Morton Prize in poetry.
Man shaped out of mud And made to speak and love— Let's stick in him a little whisperer, A bucket with two holes. Let's give him the Great Deceiver, A blood-stone. A church with a vaulted ceiling Where the White and Blue Niles meet. A dog who cries after dark. Everyone has a heart, Even the people who don't. It floats up like a beached whale in the autopsy. The heart has no sense of humor. It offers itself piteously like a pair of handcuffs, And is so clumsy that we turn away. The past Is a quarryful of marble statues With heads and genitals erased, But the heart is a muscle made of sharkbone and mutters, Resting place softened with hay Where all the cows come home, finally.
Copyright © 2012 by Monica Ferrell. Used with permission of the author.