The Hearts of Iron Giants

These shapes are
the dreams and aspects of
whatever it was
that meant something then.
Their meanings have been
placed on the ground in piles
sorted through and organized
with note cards and block lettering
helping to identify

We stand over them
watch as the piles convalesce
flowing freely
from one partitioned area to another
they too are alive.

They are the steaming metal hearts
of iron giants
thumping when provoked
allowed to smolder as they rest
in the nighttime their glow
is so faint
the naked eye can hardly tell the difference
alive or dead
it won’t matter soon
when the dawn breaks
they’ll show their real colors
pipe up
live again.

They are the silent flowing scales
of the great dragon Beowulf once defeated.
No longer armed with crude tools
decorated in war paint
they have the element of surprise
they break off at forks
a stream of death
flowing out over the delta
reaching the wide mouth of the river.

These shapes are ever-changing
coursing with the possibility
of combination
addition and subtraction
there is a thought that occasionally
one of them might evolve
rise up into something
so plausible
so familiar
that even its words would be a weapon.
Blinded by its transformation
it would have so much to say
time would stop to listen.


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