Call the Department of Transportation.
Tell them Mary’s heart is a runaway. That she
needs one in her own
back yard. Or her kitchen.
The trouble she gets in
rolling down hills with the gear shift
broken. (In her medicine cabinet?)
(Her bed?) Perhaps an operation is required,
implant a mini ramp in her rib cage
to stop that foolish thing
from falling all over the place.
– photo and poem by mary macgowan