More and more the beating
organs
pop up on the streets,
in fields, the corridors
of apartment buildings,
airborne
planes, public toilets, job centres,
and none know the origin
of the phenomenon.

Hearts grimed with blood
discovered in alleys 
and dim-lit doorways
observed 
by detectives, priests and shamans
who scratch their heads and
check their respective pulses.

And still the life-box ticks as if
the cord unsevered relents
fluid as deity’s grasp
on the knoll
of the living clock.

And two in the place of every heart removed,
they bloom unseen like night
has called forth an air strike 
from the eleventh density.

But fear comes only in the form
of eternity’s threat.

Where are these hearts from?
And why no bodies?
No missing people?
Will they ever stop appearing?

It rains answers one night,
splats on the cars and rooftops,
sentient, hearts fall from the heavens
and there’s talk of a task-force 
in the city.

For these hearts belong to someone