Echocardiogram by Lauren McCollum

There it is—my heart,
flapping with an earnestness purged
from the rest of my person long ago.
It is not what I expected—
solid and subtle, self-contained like a nut.
Rather, it gapes like a system of caves
and makes a sound like a flurry of bats.
I understand now why the heart is thought
to be the epicenter of emotion.
Its tremors are those of an underground lake
whose fish, having lived and died in darkness,
have evolved to total blindness.

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