The Heart Is a False God.
How can I know whether my heart is still there today? Why not dig it out and use a pair of scissors to cut off its excess parts? Bake it slowly. Fashion it into a glazed lamp. Watch it reach its perfection in the flames. Hear it crack. How can I know the one pumping and beating is my heart? How can I know what will flow out of the heart that explodes with a bang? How can I know the crazy motions of the hands at this moment are just for holding the heart? How can I know I won't be ashamed, panicked, collapsing and vanishing into air when I see my heart? Who puts it in my body, who makes it grow beard, who makes it smile now like a false god?
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|Publication:||The Carolina Quarterly|
|Date:||Mar 22, 2019|
|Next Article:||My Father Before I Was Born.|