What I mean when I say heart
is not the pulsing muscle
but how you twist mine
and wring it out
with just the face and voice
God gave you
I watch you change from week to week
shape-shifting and learning love
forgiving all of us our daily
failures and missteps
reminding us of what is in the middle
of this life, this constant vibration
this turning and holding
like the one last leaf hanging
on to a tiny twig in the winds
of a bleak midwinter night