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the inner sanctum
September 13, 2012
I want to spread open your ribcage
and crack the unnecessary bones
separating me from your heart.
I will search for your beating vessel,
if you allow, with eyes like saucers;
I am but a child again, over-fascinated.
I long to caress the reservoir of your life,
whether it cramps under my fingers
or splatters me with infection.
I would sample your warm blood,
its tang under the care of my intestines,
but I stitch your ruptured skin instead.
I do not dare to interrupt your body’s habits
any more than I already have;
one glimpse was a bandage to my own.
© Roumany P., St. Paul, MN
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