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