Certain Days








by Grace Paley



On certain days I am not in love

and my heart turns over



crowding the lungs for

air



driving blood in and out of

the skull improving my mind



working muscles to the bone



dashing resonance out of a roaring sea

at my nerve endings



Not much is needed



air



good sense



power



a noisy taking in and a

loud giving back



Then my heart like any properly turned

motor takes off in sparks dragging all that machinery

through the blazing day

like grass

which our lord knows

I am



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