The Sweetheart’s Curse

a single heart thick as wax pressed into the earth’s embrace it does not wither does not break only waits in silence--patient, watching its vines creep slow twisting tight coiling round the throat of time whisper soft it calls their names a voice like wind through hollow bone come and see come rest your hands upon the leaves still warm with breath they lean in close they never know until the roots have found their skin wrists entwined by tendriled veins soft as lovers’ fingertips no cries escape no struggle holds it drinks them deep--it lets them go but still they bloom from blood-wet soil a heartbeat pulsing in the stem one by one it claims them all until the plant becomes the man his lips are leaves his eyes are dark his hands are reaching from the vine he whispers now with every breeze and lures the next one home again