poems, prose and
other pretty words
© 2010-2014
Chel Mercado

                           It was just as if Erato herself
burst forth from this beating heart to tug tightly
by their papillary muscles all of my worn chordae
tendineae—shooting blood past tricuspid & blood
past the mitral valves as if Zeus'  own lightning.

She knocked breath from these lungs to shoot
up past my throat,  without skipping my voice-
box just to tickle my tongue while my teeth felt
vibrations  from  the  rest  of my  skeleton like
she had plucked at strings of her lyre  from the
throne atop my shivering spine.

My simple lips couldn't react fast enough to the
tumultuous anatomy within this tiny,  tiny heart
before my brain just barely  caught her spell on
the tips of my lips &

                                I almost said "I love you."

  but i              
(& Melpomene: we)
         know better.