A child of, say, six knows you're not the shape 
she's learned to make by drawing
half a-long a fold, cutting, then opening. opening.
Where do you open? 
Where do you carry your dead?
There's no locket for that— 
hinged, hanging on a chain
that greens your throat.

And the dead inside you,
don't you hear them breathing?
You must have a hole they can press their gray lips to.

A child of, say, six knows you're not the shape
she's learned to make by simply drawing half along 
a fold, cutting, then opening.

If you open— when you open— 
will we find them folded inside?
If you open— when you open—
will we find them inside?

In what shape? I mean what cut shape is made
whole by opening? I mean what cut shape is made
whole by opening? I mean besides the heart.