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
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