The Tethered Heart

A wanderlust ridden heart tethered to an ill-fitted life

There are maps on your hands

and neck

and feet

raised like Schiffli lace

weaving over your skin

in deep dark veins.

These maps throb

they are pounding steadily like heartbeats.

Are these the places your core turns your

head towards every morning,

while nursing steaming cup of tea in your fist,

your eyes transfixed on the horizon past the sunrise?

I trace them quietly, under my breath,

quietly,

as you sleep,

every night

tucking each destination under my tongue like marbles,

there's a map for getting over the mountains, to see

what's on the other side

there's a map for walking from one side of town to another

there are quivering lines that lead farther away

as far as Virginia, South Carolina

Merida Mexico,

Cape Verde,

they all converge at a point on your left shoulder

a lump like a misplaced heart.

What a travesty, to see a wandering heart

tether itself to an ill-fitted life.

I can't imagine how I have woken up

every morning with you still there,

at the same spot by the window

when the whole world is calling you so raucously.

I don't know how you haven't taken your fists to the window glass

and hitched a ride on the next truck out of this town.

if it's the fear of leaving me behind that stops you,

don't worry,

If you need me,

I know the places to go and the paths to follow to find you.