I got to thinking about hearts.
How they seem to be everywhere – hearts.
a heart fritter;
a bitter heart;
a heart-shaped spoon;
an up-for-grabs heart;
a not-in-service heart;
a hammock-lolling-in-the-breeze heart;
a slap-on-the-wrist heart,
a deep-water-flunking heart;
a heart with pins
and needles;
a light-blockade migraine heart;
a heart of gold, an at-best-bronze heart;
a slit of heart;
a bottomless heart
The rail of bleeding-heart
fuchsias in my sister’s garden
heart.
An I-couldn’t-believe-they-were-called-that
heart.
The ____ of the storm
The wind-swept ____
Writing from the ____
A searching heart, angling itself to catch
the height of the sun.
Born and raised in Manchester, UK, Rhianne has recently completed an MA in Creative Writing at The University of Manchester. She has loved words (and arranging them) since she could put fluffy pen to paper (that’s a lot of fluff, and a lot of paper!). She explores human relationships in all of their wonderful complexity in her work and writes a lot about mental health, a subject close to her heart. You can find more of her poetry and general musings over at rhianne-writes.tumblr.com.
Foxglove Journal 