Plathological

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What would happen if the heart could only be held in its place if the body was in one position – turning on your side in bed, the heart would slide up to your shoulder, the way your voice slips up an octave when you recognize that it’s me saying hello to you on the phone. Slipping past the shoulder’s blade, it would create a beating pad upon which to hold and neutralize the overflow and burden of the world contained just above. Flattening from the soft cells of the exposed, uncaged skin above it, flattening more with each beat, the heart would turn into a mined plateau of overburden, all the while your pillow a region blackened with the heat of your body trying to keep still, the effort of not letting those involuntary valves pump their way to yet another place inside you.