Heart Thief

We were once timeless.
Standing arm-in-arm our shadows
smoothed memory like water shaping rock.
Love spilled from our tongues
announcing the end of drought.
Slick, we squirmed under each other’s grasp,
rounding corners, forming text.
A whitewash of nouns linked our calloused fingers.
In brows rendered smooth we carved each other’s initials,
muting any distance we carried.

We were once hysterical,
Our tongues tinged with steel.
We caged love, reduced it to dramatic preludes,
as if loving thirsty was not our fault.
Clanging the cage where our collective hearts once lived,
we furrowed our scarred brows, monolithic and dry.
Ripping limbs, clawing at shins, scattering skin about the yard,
We filled our lungs with bloody heartwreck,
Screaming: Heart. Thief.

We were once murderers,
Smoking breaths and chasing heartbeats.
Sneaking about the landscape to suffocate ghosts
who make love in the back of trucks just so they can watch
the sky merge with the mountaintops.
Chewing off tongues, collapsing lungs,
We screamed where is my fucking heart?
Only to find it savage, purple with memory,
caught in barbs, drying in the wide open plains of summer.



About Anna Paige

Anna Paige is a writer, photographer, and educator and the co-founder of Billings Area Literary Arts, an organization dedicated to building and enhancing literary arts in and eastern Montana. Read More >>>