Poem

Heart-quake

black and blue blood
in my veins ripple
into the aortas
collapsing the walls
of my heart

a merry-go-round
of hope and desire
spins my world
like a gyroscope

shelves of thought
thrust away from each
other, disconcerted earth,
and the crust of my face
undulates with lust

music plays somewhere
amid the desolation,
what is the song? I know
that song? It is right on
the tip of my tongue:
an aftershock.