Heart’s Throne

28 Jan

 

The scene was unchanging, as it always was.

The cage’s bars surrounded his elaborate throne

and on either side resided two twins who

never spoke a word of thanks. No one ever spoke.

The day consisted of the same menial job: gifts were sent

and they were returned.

Nothing was questioned and the heart continued:

Pump and receive, pump and receive.

 

The scene was changing.

The cage’s bars shattered

spewing, ripping, lodging

into the throne.

A foreign intruder pierced a twin,

wriggled in its fleshy bed.

The twin did not utter a sound. He never screamed.

Foreign light bled into the throne room—bright and blinding.

 

The scene was changing, for the better.

“A friend, a friend. Someone to speak to,”

cried the heart. “Take these, take these.”

The gifts filled the space,

flowed out of the wound and never returned.

The intruder never spoke a word of thanks.

Nothing was questioned and the heart continued:

Pump and… pump and…

 

The scene was changing, for the worst.

The twin gasped while the other shuttered

Rose, fell and sighed.

The heart had no more gifts to give.

The intruder spoke no words,

watching the collapse of a king.

 

 

2 Responses to “Heart’s Throne”

  1. Danny Pres February 6, 2013 at 7:54 pm #

    Yeah the twins are lungs. Should I make it more clear that that’s who they are or just leave it like that?

  2. Max January 29, 2013 at 12:37 pm #

    Nice! the first line seems a little redundant, otherwise, this poem is awesome! Are the twins lungs?

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