Five quarts whoosh and swoosh

round the merry-go-round,
but we never catch that brass ring —
our valves and chambers, intricate mazes,
press moraine before the glacier.

     Sabina — dropped,
     biscuits scattering the floor

     Sadie — pins and needles
     doctors called exhaustion

     Dot — tics and tocs askew
     as she stepped from the tub

     Joyce — heart lumbering
     like an old washing machine

     Dee — hummingbird heart
     all flutter and whirr

Generous hearts scream like calliopes.
Men sit in easy chairs, drink cold coffee
as neighbors deliver cakes, casseroles,
match widowers to spinster daughters,
widowed sisters. Men marry and remarry.
We click our tongues, accept our fate,
birth our daughters, accept their fate.
I am the cuckoo in the nest, one
who got away, walks among nieces,
grandnieces, little girls whose dreams
will not come true. A changeling.
Cursed with a perfect heart,
a heart that bears survivor guilt. I anoint
my tongue with salt and vinegar.