"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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