The Body Remembers

Sure, the head says, it's okay.

The heart doesn't have that vocabulary,

or even the means to hear it,

buried as it is, wrapped in strings of nerves,

a remote outpost getting clicks through telegraph wires.

These words, this is all head-space, not

chest, gut or pelvic axes. The heart goes

on that deepest muscle memory.

The body remembers--a history of

however many years, like words

in journals put away in boxes,

visited every now and again.

Buried deep, these seismic heart-quakes

rise, diffuse under the skin, through

muscle and sinew, tendons, along

nerve lines, a ripple, bump or murmur

coming out in the face's quick wince,

an instant on the skin, then gone, out

into the night air and back in as well,

a charge, a burst, an electric flicker

of alternating current, back to

the source after a brief flash.