lucky chest

It's okay to feel awful,
just fine to ache.
 
Sometimes the loves
I've had will take
 
me up by the clawful,
find me in my cafe
 
or some comfortable place
and slam me into the wall
 
choke me there with memories
Blue eyes, onions, metal crucifix in my mouth
When dynamite was a boy's step
off the Greyhound
 
But it's love
so it lets me up
and I breathe -
go on about my day,
thankful my heart has truly been used
 
like Jimi Hendrix's guitar
Or Beethoven's pen
 
It has had the wildest of masters
squeeze, yank, shake
from its chambers
everything at once
that it had to give.
 
So pain is alright. Even sweet.
It doesn't hurt a heartbeat.
 
I have a lucky little chest
to hold it in.