Take A Biopsy Of The Heart, Not The Lymphnode

"Around any animals?"
"You" I thought,
"Me. Him. Her."
That should answer
your question for

now—and for later,
take a chunk
from my heart instead.
Syringe my internal
organ and watch
the blue seep

into the bell jar.
I already had an organ
donor and he was
a bluebird in a cage
and no,
he doesn't sing
for freedom from
oppression. He

sings about bodies
and boxes and freedom
from life outside
of the donor cage.
He glorifies the chipped
wooden box from inside
my body,
holy
bird
and you'll

find nothing if you
autopsy there—
nothing but the blue,

but you want my
abdomen—
the bottom of the cage
where the bird
merely shits.