I guess the nice way
to think about it is to say
the pig was tissue paper,
packed around the
heart. It’s best to make
it all seem
clean. In the picture, the men pulled
the whole red heart out through a hole
in a green drape: underneath—
what we don’t talk about, the soft hurt tender
pink—and held above—
the heart alone, like glitter stars. Nothing
distasteful. It could be a Valentine, if you
like that. You stole
my heart.
Of course a pig’s not tissue
paper.
Of course we have to
make decisions.