This Is My Heart by Joy Harjo

This is my heart. It is a good heart.
Weaves a membrane of mist and fire.
When we make love in the flower world
My heart is close enough to sing to you
in a language too clumsy,
for human words.

This is my head. It is a good head.
Whirrs inside with a swarm of worries.
What is the source of this mystery.
Why can’t I see it right here, right now
as real as these hands hammering
the world together?

This is my soul. It is a good soul.
It tells me, “Come here forgetful one.”
And we sit together
We cook a little something to eat,
then a sip of something sweet,
for memory, for memory.

This is my song. It is a good song.
It walked forever the border of fire and water
climbed ribs of desire to sing to you.
Its new wings quiver with vulnerability.

Come lie next to me.
Put your head here.
My heart is close enough to sing.

Desire by Joy Harjo

Say I chew desire and water is an explosion

of sure wings in my mouth.

Say it tastes of you.

Say I could drown because you left

for the time it takes a blackbird to understand

a pine tree. 

Say we enter the pine woods at dawn.

We never slept and the only opium we smoked

was what became of our mingled breath.

Say the stars have never learned

to say good-bye. (One is a jewel

of blue magic in your perfect ear.)

Say all of this is true and more

then there are blackbirds

in a heaven of blackbirds.