1 minute read
Pendulum Heart
By Valerie Pichot
Sometimes my heart swings in my hollow chest like a pendulum, hanging from a string.
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Like a grandfather clock, it swings to the rhythm of its own infinity.
Some nights it grows heavy from the weight it carries and it slows. And time stands still— The waters breathe quiet. The moon, awake and crying in the night.
Some nights it grows tired of the fragility in its blood and it rages. It throws time to the wind— The waters roar angry. The sea, a raging pit of salty desperation.
And some nights my heart does not stir at all and I wish it would.
Sometimes my heart swings in my hollow chest like a pendulum and I wonder what it would feel like to cut the string it clings to.
