My heart does not beat as a proper heart does. It hurts a lot. For a long time doctors didn't know what was the matter with me. They still don't. I wrote this poem when I thought I had a hole in my heart, I thought death was patiently waiting for me. I was scared.
There are millions of fish
Swimming through my veins
They carry life
The hold the sun
They take care of me
In my chest is a drunken conductor
He once was very good at his job
Telling the fish where and when to go
But as time and weather have aged him
He fails at times,
and he forgets things,
his candace, his directions, his timing.
I am fearful the liver of my heart will give out,
he will fall to ground of his enclosure
and lay there,
cold and silent.
And when the fish
No longer have voice or direction to guide them,
they too will stop.