The Real Blood of the Heart
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

the flesh doesn’t
impinge on the spirit
the flesh is
spirit that walks
on slippered feet
and carries
cardiognosis
the first the last
systolic metaphors abound
it can be touched
open
and vexed closed
it follows
the body’s impetuses
and also the other
way around every movement
soaked
in arousal
never marginalized
hardly invisible
speaks
many languages
lives full
of little renaissances
its tears
the real blood
of the heart