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.