He holds the parcel out to me
and it is my heart,
swaddled in blue tissue.
Cold, white,
quietly convulsing.
Look! Been saving
this, all these years.
Not a scratch on it.
Boxes and boxes
behind him—full
of us. Captured.
I’ve been so careful.
He smiles at the fist
of twitching muscle
in my hands.
It is, indeed,
unbroken.