When you carve out my heart
and spike it, place it in a glass box
to gaze, this is what you would see.

After my blood oozes away, drying and flaking
in dark sheets
After my flesh rots, veins and arteries
rendered stiff, a lump of
stone and glass
would remain.

One side is mirrored mosaic, the symmetry
pleases the eye, its beauty comforts me.
The other is blackened with heat,
metal long since hardened;
my shields are borne
of betrayal.

But when my heart beats again
and fresh life flows through,
molten gold will pour through the cracks,
making the organ
pulse, now more full and glad
than ever before.