How I Am Doing

A red heart beats in my tall bin
it trots out subtle thud-a-thuds
[no one will die tonight]/ It is a
struggle to talk about ‘how I’m
doing‘ – I attend a playground-
bait of held-back & brave boys
don’t cryhold it off – greeted
endings won’t happen – as that
[round battery] raps descants/
I had plucked it from my pup’s
toy & left it to wither [& expire]