Clara Iannotta: no longer navigating by a star

My heart lives in my
chest. I know it’s there.
But now the rogue will often
disappear, and leave me
stranded in my scarecrow
mind. It’s so unkind.
What did I do to make her run
away?–I ask myself each
day. What did I do,
or what did I do not
or just in part, to make my
heart pack up and run
away?

 

The house inside my chest is
empty now–a vacant lot;
the weeds grow wild in there,
and still heart not come back.
Soon the foundations will be swept
away, and underneath the chest’s vast
empty skies, only the cries that
echo from afar, of some strange
flapping bird, no longer navigating by a
star.

 

Dorothy Molloy