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The Sweetheart’s Curse

a single heart
thick as wax
pressed into the earth’s embrace

it does not wither
does not break
only waits in silence--patient, watching

its vines creep slow
twisting tight
coiling round the throat of time

whisper soft
it calls their names
a voice like wind through hollow bone

come and see
come rest your hands
upon the leaves still warm with breath

they lean in close
they never know
until the roots have found their skin

wrists entwined
by tendriled veins
soft as lovers’ fingertips

no cries escape
no struggle holds
it drinks them deep--it lets them go

but still they bloom
from blood-wet soil
a heartbeat pulsing in the stem

one by one
it claims them all
until the plant becomes the man

his lips are leaves
his eyes are dark
his hands are reaching from the vine

he whispers now
with every breeze
and lures the next one home again

Copyright © Alesia Leach

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