Dale McLain


The heart is still evolving.
It leaves a trail of coarse hair
as it tries to stand upright.
It is a timid thing
and slow to change,
content to grunt and hide
in the shallow cave of your chest.
It kills sometimes,
but only to survive
and the pelts are treasured,
slung low around its waist.
Pride was the first thing
it understood.
Lately it has taken to drawing
with hunks of coal.
Over and over
it sketches what it loves.
Up and down your yellow ribs
your own face blooms,
flat and small,
a thousand times.

Dale McLain lives in a terribly unpoetic suburb of Dallas, Texas. She is a wife, mother, and mixed media artist. Her poems have appeared in the Poets Gone Wild Anthology and on-line at Pen Himalaya.

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