like an archaeologist with her face to the dirt
trying to go beyond the dusty surface, i lay
my head upon your chest, and hear
the beat so strong that it sounds as though
two hearts lay nestled between two lungs
inhaling evenly and smoothly.
there is a pow wow in your chest, drum
beats after every step of an old Native dancer
wearing feathers and hides.
the dancers stomping in time to the beat
and the drum moves them from one lung to the
next, they reach up to the sky.
there is a war between your lungs, drumming
as the battle line closes in upon the heart that
recently invaded your chest.
soldiers march forward and man their
weapons as the enemy reaches their sights, cock
their rifles, ready, aim and
fire is lying in your chest, crackling, burning,
magicians entice the crowd that gathers by flinging
powder inward and changing
the colour of the fire, leaping from red to blue,
and fire grows larger, to purple, to green,
to white, pure white
like the white on the feather of the oldest dancer
or the snow fallen on the dead soldiers there
or the purest idea there ever was
i am the fire, i am the drum beat, i am the dancer,
i am the second heart nestled in your chest,
dancing, fighting, performing for this love.
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