Poem – “A Vena Cava”

A Vena Cava

I have a single vena cava in my heart,
‘Tis neither superior nor inferior but mediocre
Tiredly she beats, only because she has to
For death would be more troublesome

This isolated, lonely little vena cava,
She grew feathers and boils and scales
She metamorphosed into a magnificent mutant
For lack of anything wholesome to do

Being broken, she does what she wants to
It isn’t as if there’s another to notice

Copyright ©2018 S. M. Shuford
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