Heart’s Harmony
Andrea Zhou A heart is ½ of what reality is. It allows the body to beat around the music, the emotional sound that works around the clock and turns into a visible invisible iridescence. A flutter—a flap—whispers. Miracle’s flatline grows golden wings ‘til the scissors cut the silk string once more without blessings’ breath. A shame when it sputters faster than the gunshot at the race until the sound of the seconds run to the determined line. Tick, tock. A visit from death at the end, and those wings shred to a chicken down to a wisp of what was once. There, the curse and freedom end. |