I held his heart in my bloody gloved hand,
my face drawn closer to it,
this strange cut of meat you’d get at the butcher shop,
pumping like an obedient machine just outside of his body.
It had an aorta and veins and arteries,
atria and ventricles, all in the right places.
The inner walls of this muscle were, however,
studded with sharp white teeth, hundreds of them.
It was where his soul resided.