Hearts

I wake up, the sky 

is still empty 

and I still get to run, 

cardio doesn’t come 

to me any better, 

and I read, write, check in 

with my people, take the news 

like the one dating app

I allow myself now: 

stay informed 

up to the minute

on the opposite

of progress,

so I keep watching 

documentaries, one 

about how the scorpions, in fact, 

brought hearts to land first, 

we, bony fish, 

needed more air, 

our skin having nothing 

on claws 

and a carapace 

in a desert where we 

couldn’t stay long, anyway,

still, we kept at it, 

crawled higher, grew out

a new alcove 

for air 

and our blood, 

each chamber growing 

to move the fare of a rhythm 

we had to keep playing

and learn the meter that comes 

with each line 

and more heat

and everything that this air 

keeps finding to send us

and test our capacity 

for staying

at tempo,

no sleep,

and slow burns. 

Heart (oil pastel on construction paper)