The Word-a-day Writing Challenge

Day Thirty-Four: Instigate

I have been told
that I have a very strong heart.

Look, there it is, said the technician
pointing at a hazy doppler image.
Your heart.
I watched as the obscure, boulder-like replica bleated
in gritty streams of red and yellow light, and wondered
if something instigated this strengthening
or if maybe

I'm just lucky.


And, did you know, by the way,
that if you ever cross a desert
you will carry it with you
for the rest of your life?
It's tiniest pieces become
inextricable

from your own 

tiniest pieces.

Microscopic bits of glass
burry themselves deep in your ears
your eyes
your skin
your hair—

sand
in everything you are.


It has taken some time

but, finally, I can say
that I no longer feel
that scrubbing
of the past against my skin.

I can sit
relatively near to you

and if we just keep talking,
if I don't stop to think of it,
then there is nothing at all between us
but time

and maybe, a little bit,
the small damp paws of attraction,
a puppy-teethed tug
on somewhere I once
travelled.