Murmur

Your heat glows around me
with every subtle respiration--
you're very much alive, body warping
mechanically contorting and processing
every little finger to every hidden pore.

But within me? I fail to convulse;
your heat used to pulsate throughout my ribs,
pumping erratically, a hummingbird spazzing
behind sheets of tissue, bone cages and lungs:

And yet, to this day, your heat flows around me
and is delivered as stealthily as the night owl
lunges for his breakfast (and when the sun blinks):
So I feel, so I hear, so I see nothing has changed.