Bone Dams

Gnawing awake in my bones
lie hearty beavers building
dams in my sternum
independent contractors
charged with the monumental
task of replacing this
hesitant heart.

They wail when I try
to rip them out
leave gouges in these
giant white trees
beat their tails against my
solar plexus
until I must return them
to their new home.

Cliffs surround the roaring
waterfall at the end of
the river of
my pericardial cavity.
The sound drowns
my attempts at saying
"I love you."

It's only been three months
I know it's too early but
I want to say directly
"I love you," rather than
watching the beavers rip it
out of me
later.

Valentine's day is
on it's way and
I cannot stand
standing on the precipice
any longer.

Send me down
to the depths
let me drift
in fresh water until
they build me into their dam.

I can handle being ruined
if it means you know
how much you matter.