Life tightens its grasp on my heart,
presses down up all around until it’s a miniscule
speck of flesh, red
blood, the size of a speck of dust, a fruit fly.
My throat’s blocked off but I say what I need to:
hi, please, thank you, yes, sounds great. I’m great.
I get into bed, think and,
hope that tomorrow will yield a bigger heart,
at least one a bit bigger than a bug?
Maybe as big as a ladybug? Red,
and speckled with yesterday’s darkness.
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