I had open heart surgery when I was nine months old
because I had a hole in my heart that never closed.
I know this for sure, because I still have the scar.
And after much deliberation
and careful examination,
I believe that either the flesh is still exposed,
or my ***** resides somewhere inside of a bell jar,
vacant and numbed by the cold.
* * *
There must have been an open window near my hospital bed
but I was much too young to remember.
Sometimes you can't stitch the arctic emptiness with thread.
What's the weather like in September?