I often wonder about that flutter

coming from my chest

And whether I’ll feel that high

where blood is pumping

and I don’t know why

but my palms are burning

And I breathe in one breath,

and feel my heart doing its best

to bring about unrest

Yet I lost the key to my chest

years ago— and there’s no crank,

no pump, that can break

the flow free or plumb

the blood like a set of pipes

where it’s leaking,

flooding my basement full

of those feelings from so long ago

Why is my heart so slow…