Charley Tisch

a desperate quest for a phantom organ 

aware of vacancy, i place resolute   

palms gently against my hollow chest,  

finger tips lefttouchingright, 

slowly taking grip   of ribcage blades, 

pulling apart what was                 once joined at the sternum 

to reveal an organ valley                         of dark purple tomato flesh 

contrasting against the enamel               luster of the calcified frame; 

the pried apart, snap                                           –ped in half wishbone. 

open they remain as i ram trimmed nail fingers 

into my own beating meat,                             worming them through 

tangled veins, searching      without a mirror  

for the vessel they say is          responsible for love.