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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 29 page 19


Stolen Heart

by Steven Wright

I stand alone
transfixed in thought
outside a now-empty beer-soaked bar
I listen to the hum of the electricity in the street light above
then look down
at the heart stolen I hold in my two hands
and I ponder what shall I do with it next
my thoughts are interrupted
by the sounds of drunken laughter
their voices echoing off the patchwork storefront buildings
they’re getting closer
Instinctively, I step back into the shadows, like the thief I am
until they pass
then I have an epiphany
what point is there to stealing a heart
when I have none back to give
So I step out from the shadows and into the quiet city street
and place my coat on the sidewalk like a blanket
upon which I gently place this fine heart
where it can wait for someone more deserving than me
to come claim it and give it the love that it needs