Day 2: a portrait of the heart poem

Heart Chamber Song

Lying in bed I

      hear the soloist.

A clashing, clamoring

rummaging through ventricles -

then a pause.

For a second

there's the sensation of floating

in space, without oxygen.

Any second, it will resume it's preparations.

Then, there are echoes through corridors -

Where are they?

Who shows up late

         for a soloists' recital?

Do they not see

         how long I've practiced?

Can they not hear

         the resonating

         palpable sound of my solo performance?

Where is my symphony?