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Rest
Ice
Compression
Elevation

It doesn’t work for a heart.

I rest it –
Make it lazy.
Deprive it of any exertion.
Force sleep on it.
Like a little baby confined to its crib.
Where I forget it;
as one does with a broken thing.

I ice it –
Make it cold.
Deprive it of company or care.
Expose it to the elements absurdly.
Unguarded and uncossetted out there.
Where I forget it;
as one does with a broken thing.

I compress it –
Make it small.
Deprive it of acknowledgement.
Squeeze it into a little nook invisibly.
Where I disregard its existence
And forget it;
as one does with a broken thing.

I elevate it –
Make it forgetful.
Deprive it of silence and reflection.
Fill its days with spectacles of distraction.
I entertain it.
And it forgets me;
as broken things do to us.

Rest
Ice
Compression
Elevation

It doesn’t work for a heart.

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