Gabriele Morgan poetry

rabbit heart

in the grey of the morning,
your heart rolls over into my hand.
snuggles close, seeking warmth or maybe shelter,
it has been left out in the cold so many times.

a timid beast, it nestles in my grasp,
nuzzles against my ribcage where I hold it,
pressing as though it wants inside,
as though it can squeeze through the walls built of bone

that will surely
crush it.