"Occur, Hearts, Occur"

Rob Carlson


The ebbing of a fire tide
The wane of silver moons
The change in a season
The movement of her hand

Bombs laced within chests,
Ticking - waiting,
Bombs buried beneath flesh
A thought of total danger

Many sleuths have pondered
The wisdom in location
Of a bomb tied deep within,
Ticking softly and resting against

The tissues of a heart

For all it takes is chance,
A subtle shift or look
A stray word, or
The movement of her hand

And bombs explode
Eruptions spewing fire
Concussive blasts that reduce
All hearts to crippled lumps

Where are all these fuses?
Invisible threads twining
Outwards and vulnerable
To shifts and words and
Enchanting movements

Bombs go off because they're built
Yeah, bombs are built to explode


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