Each Beating Heart

Each Beating Heart in a box on my desk is a picture elizabeth holding her daughter she's pulling the christmas ribbon behind them is a mirror in the slow crush of moments I forget what happens next sorrow is an open door or a circle drawn in ash around the life I'd hoped to live whose future am I hiding holding back and pushing on a fluid spiral drifting without motion each beating heart receives the gift of longing feverish we tear away the wrapping the box is always empty there's a stranger in the mirror the camera flash dissolves his face I want so much but give so little