Lore of the Lion Heart

for juan 

lion heart feels like lying hard

on the cement with my face down

spreading lips for a little air 

that will make sense for my body to take in

and excrutiate exert excrete feign in the realness

of this breath.

lion heart feels like fractions spread over the pavement

little giblets of flesh

disgraced in the excrement of broken sidewalks and playgrounds.

there is no cherry on top.

no icing to veil this torment; of still beating and beaten

sentiments and memories

beyond these years of tired time

that rims around my eyes.

the lion heart learns hard the acts of others first

knows the aches of destroyed rings

uncherished things

that marked the days spent hoardishly with another;

only to be without them, these unsettling screams

share vowels into the sky, a plea into the ether of loathing dreams;

this diminished self 

with bloody knees.

it won't make it past another round of tattered skin; 

the bones frown when it's time to remember,

recall injury of once love -- a phenomenon shared

each decade; disgraceful perfume soaks into lion heart meat

ground up for another dig.

~ jessica m. wilson

7/28/25    910pm PST

Monday