Death’s Door (a poem)

Leave his heart at my door
You’re overdue you know

That organ
Not for you anymore

This is my job
Let me handle it

You fear the accusation

*shrugs shoulders*

Why do you care?
He dropped yours off first

*points to a jar*

You see
Over there

Your heart in a jar
Delivered by him months before

Move on with your life
While you still have breath

Trust me
I know a thing or two about this


Death’s Door (a poem)
Christina Schmidt, MA