The Metaphor Anatomists insist that the heart is an organ; Four hollow chambers and fibrous walls, The outline of a plucked goose, neck drooping From the arch, in size no bigger than a closed fist.   We mistake its function and its form, they say— And misdirect the young— When we make it love’s seat And give it upright symmetry.   Two equal halves floating in cartoon skies. A lesson years in the unlearning, they have found.   It is true that the heart is an engine room, not a bower And leans to the left where the hard work…