Admal, who was the world
and all the world’s belief,
outlived his heartlife. We,
who swore a surgeon’s oath
to save him, cut the heart
out of his brother’s chest
and sewed it in his own
wherein it fibrillated
twice, then failed. We slew
Annihilus, the son
of Admal, for his proud
young heart. Transplanted, it
beat like a beggar’s fist
against an iron door.
Admal rejected it;
rejected, too, the heart
of Serenas, his wife,
and that of Leokin,
brave warrior. There came
a dwarf whose saintmark glowed
bright on his check. We seized
his heart and grafted it
in Admal’s mediastinum
where it blanched and shrank.
We stuck a pig. Its fat
red heart was bulging as
the sixth incision split
the breast of Admal. Loud,
hard, hot, the pig’s heart pumped
like the Avenger’s dragon
caged in bone, and broke
the ribs of Admal, who
was all the world. Holy
is the corpse of Admal
and holy is the pig’s heart
which rejected him.