for molly

the bronze manclamps the wharfwith the wings of his accordionmolly his small
dogwears a bathing capand a veil of watersometimes she is just a wavefrom the
mission of seafarersand in the windthe bronze manmistakes her slow dark circlesfor a
flagtoday she straps on an aqualungand lowers the diving bellto persuade the long
held breathof the bronze man to return 

step 1 fold a valley

the origami deer 
slips out of his breath 

flings his printer’s hat 
into a valley 

folded mountain drinks 
the quiet waters 

of mirrors and snow 
forgets the shepherd 

the three distant ways 
to make a penguin 

there is less on his 
table than a cup 

the preliminary fold 
where his heart was 


mining the heart

the cardiologist 
wears his own heart 
like antlers 

today he pushes 
a metal trolley 
through yards of arteries 
to weed your heart 

wings of old newspapers 
canary claws 
a scapular feather 
cover the sign 
you are entering the heart 

a workplace where there 
is always the anvil 
the heat of hammers 

the beetle mallet 
its repetition a lantern 
of pulley and flywheel 
joins the fury of blood 

as carts of forgotten sunlight 
fall on your wrist 
the cardiologist 
removes his davy lamp 
and closes the valve 



Kerrin P. Sharpe is a teacher of creative writing. She has recently published in Best New Zealand Poems 08 and 09, TurbineSnorkelBravadoTakaheNZ ListenerPoetry NZJuncturesSport and The Press.