Fists

in 5th grade health class, they told me that

the human heart is roughly the size of a fist

I don't remember what the teacher said next

because I was too busy 

curling my fingers into my palm

surely, whatever I was feeling

had to have been made by something larger

than my frail hands,

something more powerful

than my ten year old fist

I closed my eyes

and punched the desk as hard as I could

the skin on my knuckles tore open

blood surfacing, shooting pain up my arm,

and I walked with teary eyes 

to the principal's office

when he asked why I did it,

I could only say I was testing my heart

these days, I still ball my hand

into a fist and just

stare at it a bit

I do this every day

and sometimes I'll punch something

like my desk, or a wall

or the drawer that holds all the notes I wrote

but never showed you

my fist has gotten a little larger since then

but it still breaks and bleeds all the same