Andrew Leggett: ‘Inside My Chest’

Inside My Chest

Inside my chest, a funeral drum beats
through the twelve bars of a major blues,
breaking into reggae in the prison yard
of the heart, whose march is numbered
like the mugshot of a face with digits.

Through the twelve bars of a major blues,
the sun streams in to light a corner
of the semipermeable cell membrane
with the numb receptors that block
the spike of the neuronal action potential.

The sun streams in to light a corner
of the heart, whose march is numbered
inside my chest. A funeral drum beats,
breaking into reggae in the prison yard
of the semipermeable cell membrane

of the heart, whose march is numbered
like the mugshot of a face with digits,
with the numb receptors that block
the sun streaming in to light a corner,
breaking into reggae in the prison yard.

Like the mugshot of a face with digits
inside my chest, a funeral drum beats.
The spike of the neuronal action potential
breaks into reggae, in the prison yard,
through the twelve bars of a major…