Bunny Heart


There is a horse in the clearing,
A cloud in the sky,
A wave on the shore,
And each stands for the unspeakable;
I am heartless.
And by that I don’t mean without a heart,
But my heart is so bloated with anger, loss and memories,
That it is a black sore,
Hardly recognizable as an organ of love.
I want to lay down with the horse,
Nestled against its fur and warmth,
A forest bunny covered in damp leaves,
Looking upwards at the clouds,
My eyes cups of tears and my ears twitching,
My heart opening in waves,
Liquid streaming like salt water, like blood, like everything I forgot,
Pumping, pumping open.

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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