blog of poet, leah umansky

To the Custodian of My Heart

You are the one. Gatekeeper. Seer. Wise one, you will dispose of all the others. Could the past be buffed, you would do it, and with ease. The way you would carve, peel the yellowed skin back; peel the layers and layers and layers. Yes, it would stink – the past is a stinky thing – but, Bearer, suffocate the foul and beat down the wicked.  You: the one truth. You-  keep the red, red and the blue,  away. Tell me, how I love.  I’m almost thirty and I do believe the heart knows one. Oh, do be gentle with the past; though it is bitter, crude and sharp. Do not murder. Puncture it – yes.  Let it play on the wall.

Now, put me to my bed.

Blanket me and blanket me and blanket me.

(c) Umansky 2009