Why was the heart, with its throbs, aches,
breaks, and other metaphorical palpitations,
the presumed locus of love?
I should think a more fitting personal analogy would
place my heart in my patella,
for they’ve experienced very similar levels
of abuse.
Or why not the brain,
which gets credit for all types of smarts
but not emotional intelligence?
Could love not also live in the lungs,
where expansion and contraction
and absorption of invisible life forces occur
as quickly as a fresh romance, and which
occasionally culminates in breathlessness?
Might love not motivate the legs, that so often reach forward
without explanation beyond their own expectations,
and yet will fail equally unpredictably and
send us crashing to the ground?
Does love dwell in the eyes, so commonly seeking
contact with a complimentary pair?
No? Yes?
Could our number of eyeballs
form the basis for monogamy?
All these could be…
beaten
by the heart, which,
sending and receiving with miraculous determination,
is both the question and the inquirer
on a life-long
journey to
discover
another
itself.