Lord, Give Us Seven Hearts
by Claire Scott
Since a cat has seven lives, how about seven hearts
for us humans, or at least four hearts
like the slimy hagfish or three like an octopus?
Even a lowly earthworm has five sort-of hearts.
Our hearts break so easily, O Lord,
like spider webs and butterfly wings
made of scorched glass. What in god’s
name were you thinking?
A heart crushed by Seth in third grade.
No more I heart yous passed across the aisle.
Another when I was laid off, certain I was
sailing to the top of an admittedly small pile.
Eying tall buildings, sharp knives and thick ropes.
What of the car that ran a red light, my son
tossed twenty feet, chronic pain, no cure.
How can a mother’s heart stay whole?
Can you see what I mean here, O Lord?
Give each of us a few more hearts, a few more chances
to watch the bright flurry of purple finches
to play Chutes and Ladders
with grandchildren, smiling at long
chutes avoided with quick fingers.
A few more years to cook dried out turkeys
with oyster stuffing people pretend to like
Of course you could make us sturdier hearts, O Lord,
made of steel or stone or silicon. But
who would want a heart hardened to a small child
in the Darién Gap barefoot and bereft,
or a woman selling her body to buy her sister insulin,
or a strung-out man on a sidewalk, syringes by his side.
Can you smell the white smoke of suffering?
Do you suffer too, O Lord? Better to give
us more hearts so we can help each other,
and I can live longer to care for my son.
Claire Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t.
