In which I go too far
I have set my heart on the sea. It is much too far off but I reckon
I know how to find it. I travel best without a map.
Mazy lanes are edged with keep-out walls. All doors are closed,
eyeless windows stare at me. I am not afraid.
There. I knew it. A smudged pencil line between the trees.
I go on, and on, until water nudges my toes.
I remove my heart. This is not as difficult as you might think,
or as painful. But do not try it at home. Once it is free
of its attachments it is surprisingly light. It is smaller than I had supposed
and not as heart-shaped, unbroken but pale like cloud.
The tide is leaving the beach and all the little wavelets
are rosy-tipped with sun. I set my heart gently on the water and
let it go. I know the rules of the sea. Regulation 33:
Rescued persons to be treated humanely and delivered
to a place of safety. I believe this also applies to hearts.
