Practice it gently-
the origami of the heart,
the aortas and atriums, left and right
ventricles folding inward like paper
until it is a little boat set
loose inside of you.
It will be a thing without
anchor pulsing along your waterways: the
canal of your carotid, the
gutter of your small intestine, the
still open sea of your lungs.
Your little boat will drift awhile, the salty
air in its sails, the storms advancing and
retreating, the hull strong
until the tide carries it ashore and
at last you will find it,
moored behind your breastbone,
ready to be unfolded
slowly, carefully, back into your heart.
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