They study children to see if it was real,
if your heart really changes shape when you see it
drawn up in blotchy white-blue,
like a fog shedding and shrinking
they assure you
it is well-contained but you felt over your ribs
and wondered how bodies calculate space,
in biology you can believe in the invincible
and the plastic models they keep
at the doctor’s, except
You are not
the expert in your own weathering
a beautiful formula swallows and rounds out a detail
the way sand loses its old rock-scars,
the way a woman loses faith
“angel,” smoke rises
with his heavy marijuana breath
you ask him how much you’re supposed
to be feeling
Last night you stuck your fingers in an electric socket
and it made snow
did you believe the sad shit you said
about Christmas?
they want to scan again
prove that on the 24th,
you were crying in the Barnes & Nobles parking lot
what size is your heart now,
jaded, cynic, austere woman
he answers with thick fingers
and a wolfish look
it doesn’t really matter.