The Homemade Piñata
I toppled--always too soon,
a hollow thud where the heart had been held.
A vital organ carted away, accidentally
mixed in with the recycling. I tried
fashioning myself a new
heart from old newspapers, a hole-punch,
and yarn scraps, wore it dangling
around my neck with a macramé chain
(knotted from a ball of twine
my mother left behind).
And there it was, waiting and obvious,
saying, "Here is the news:
She's ready." Must've looked so clumsy,
bicycle-commuting with that floppy
necklace batting back and forth.
What a dope. So I hung it on my wall--
pretended it was only art. On some random
visit, he admired the heart and I waved it off,
saying, "Oh, I'm through with it."
And then, unhooking it from above its place,
held it in my open palms, and, moving toward him, said,
"Why, do you want it?"