The boar's heart

Colleen Collins

Dark-mantled.
Advancing; trim.
Unlinked; each isled but
    tandemned, and wick-ed.



the heart in my hand is not
her heart
it is a boar’s heart
she lives
(I let her go)
the boar is dead
tusks up
in the woods.



Signal as noise.
Indistinct.
An irretrievable ground /
    a figure in sit.

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Colleen Coco Collins is here for the birds. On her knees for songs/poems/sea/sky/beats/trees… atemporal… living in rural mi'kma'ki, port greville, nova scotia, Canada admist crows, coyotes, grackles, bees, humpbacks and fox. She is Irish/French/Odawa.