I’m on a day trip from
your heart
day release
from a red
blood
cell
caught a ferry at aorta jetty
read the internal mail
as your breakfast settled
jollily we board
and go/ with the flow
transferring to a train at
the pulmonary junction
rush hour
transporting veins
in two piece suits
go about their function
next stop: the lungs
and we all alight
the trachea is crowded with
noisy schoolchildren
and I can’t breathe
but
the left lung
the tour guide points out
millions of carcinogens
some new that day/ he says
from your Rothmans
and I stand in front of a
particularly blackened section of bronchi
and get my picture taken
the bulk of the day
is to be whiled away on the portal line
a half-day pass rates good value
it’s off-peak travel all fares
though there’s a derailment at Spleenic View
and Gallbladder is closed for repairs
we stop for lunch at the stomach
excited about the afternoon trip to Spleen
I just pick at my glycerol and polypeptides
it’s a beautiful stop/ but your diet deafens
with gurgles and grumbles that rarely subside
I wish you’d eat more than what your magazines decide
my
darling
I have to say
though it’s your heart
that holds me
seeing such a splendid
spleen/ sped
my breath away
truly the ideal retirement
retreat
an emphatic/ lymphatic
villa of veins
where infection is fought
and it seldom rains
to one day stroll free in
the spleen
is a dream I’ll retain
it’s late in the afternoon
as the train flushes down the colon
you find me writing some postcards
featuring a pastel sun
setting on duodenum
tonight I’ll be back in the heart
pining/
aching/ wanting/ immersed
as the carriage passes through the tunnel of rectum
the familiar jealousies
stir/ consume/ overrun
faeces
smear up the windows of thought
as this poetic train comes
to a vulgar halt
as commuters bustle for the
final push
patient listeners, to you,
this I submit
love can be digested and dissected
crucified and resurrected
but at the end of the line
love is shit
copyright Ash Dickinson