Long ago, I ceased opening my heart
to another – the way children do,
though I quake at their unconditional
confirmation. Even the animals
I bring home in wire crates consider me
with their cottontail eyes, cuddle me
after I shove them from my
lap when the conversations get heated,
return with every anticipation of being fed
and petted. I am too burdened
with bothers and blame. I forget how to commit -
until dark - when I quietly cloister beside that warm body,
strain to hear the sounds of sleep,
and remember what it is like to open my heart -
to love unconditionally.
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