.
the fossilized dinosaur heart might have just been a lump of mud. surrounded by ribs, here i am. speculating. the heart of a fin whale weighs eight hundred and forty-two pounds. are you picturing that? the fin whale with his enormous heart. floating in his salt-water bubble, suspended in a dream, here in the twinkle of the strung lights, looking through the tree outside the window, where we all wonder about gravity, levity, listening to plunky-low music muffled from the next room. opening and closing the door with his ears. opening and closing my toes against language, curled around the carpet. looking up dinosaur hearts, pretending bedroom-whales to reassure myself. all books rearrange in order of color. rainbow bookshelf, quiet potted plants growing their mottled green to breathe me. slippery seaweed drooping, looped and soft and stringy from the ceiling, covered in sand. i watch an iridescent oval fish float by. she looks at me skeptically with her one sideways-eye. the dog curled in her corner of molding, pink nose tucked into her tail. i chase fluttering animal-hearts through our dreams, protecting us from wars i wage upon waking. astronomy is science and mythology, spliced. taped to the sky. all these slapped-up stars, perforations in the dark, teach me to talk.
.
