I found a beating heart half-buried in the woods. It was 
beating beneath some dead leaves. When I picked it up, it was 
warm and heavy in my cold hands. I worried I was going to 
drop it. Later, I found a woman half-buried not far from 
where I found the beating heart.  Is this your beating heart? I 
asked. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have a larynx. She didn’t 
even have a thorax. She didn’t have anything. Not even arms 
or legs or a head. She really wasn’t a woman as much as she 
was the space between dead leaves. No, it’s yours she said.

—Zachary Schomburg

(Source: cocophony)