I studied your heart in a book
with glossed pages and big spider-words
that sting the tongue.
This book cost me one hundred dollars,
and I no longer believe it was worth it.
Your heart, a heart, it turns out, is quite boring...
Just a few muscles and tubes,
badda bing, badda boom!
And some poor wretch tears
through the hole from the other world
into this one, as the mother exalts
in its shrieking misery of being.