Hole-Heart Boy

into a library of toxins

enter the hole-heart boy

on a guanine dice-roll or a meiotic card-shuffle

or god’s fingers poking a womb

“don’t we have it lucky?”

“isn’t it such a shame?”

the scalpel-cut of prejudice is cold and it is vain

numbed by ignorance and lidocaine

the struggle makes the matriarch

crave the pethidine and the dark

but dear, this is a love that beat the odds

making a mother of invention and improbability

damn them to the narrowlands and live

you more-whole-heart-than-them boy