Palpitations
She thinks this flipping and flopping
is her heart about to break,
that she will drop like dad at 45.
What we doctors fret about
are aching chests, swollen legs,
breath
that’s gone in twenty steps.
We pat her on the head,
send her back to work, think
to ourselves, go get a life.
But tonight awake in my bed
when the clock tolls two
some demon may jump
from my breast bone to
my Adam’s apple
and beat his drums wildly,
and I will think
it is the end.