adaptations of the broken heart

By Genevieve Harding

after a line from Lo Kwa Mei-en

your barren head is running dry; devil horns hidden between
my legs, creature of darkness in the open field of my chest,
split open. at the end there are withered flowers and a hanging

corpse, my own wishbone, love-sick creator making a man a man.
stolen rib, one woman. i mean heart shaped hands, explore my
skin; body prone to wetness. bruised; burnt out candlestick

burn me out, put out. broken glass, fit the pieces of the heart
beat in my back, gold in the cracks. garden of eden snake is to
sin is to son is to you as in: we are breaking up, hang up, take up

a new lover or lucifer, watch me dance with the devil in spite of you
break his horn to give to you, symbol of kinship, remind you
he is your brother or father. god in his own right, own world,

underworld. i am still under you. cut my ear off; licked envelope
painted self portrait with the blood and bandage brush, like van gogh
as in: i’m letting you go, two bites from the apple gilded gold—