Chambers of the Heart // Jake Kiszka

V

Warnings: mentions of blood [that's a recurring theme, obviously...]

—

It's Jesus

standing at the side of the road,

heart in his hand.

His heart is a burr; it snags

on everything.

All thorns and fire: the love

fenced off and burning.

He's scared it will fall back

into his body; in a dream it's

thrown down and buried

in another man's chest.

—

Josh was still next to me when I woke up, curled up against my side, breathing slowly and heavily. He'd stolen most of the covers in the night and made a cocoon around himself, burrowed in so deeply that I could only see a mess of curly hair and the top of his forehead.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes, a tight headache pulsating at the back of my skull, and reached for the glass of water on my nightstand I'd been clever enough to bring with me the night before. I leaned back against the headboard, sipping dutifully as the clip-art images of my dream came back to life.

There had been Jake and Josh and I at the bar again, not so unlike reality. But the bar was illuminated in entirely red light–this stark, glowing crimson that shone off all the glass liquor bottles and the twin's eyes. Then Josh had disappeared and it was Jake and I outside, but the red light was still out there, and he was tossing a heart in his hands like a hacky-sack.

Josh stirred next to me, a muffled groan sounding from beneath the covers, and whipped the blankets away from his face. He slowly opened his eyes, stretching, one hand knocking into the headboard, and sat up with a quiet hiss.

"Ouch," he said, massaging his hand. He looked to me, extending his uninjured hand out. "Spare some, miss?"

I laughed a little and handed him the glass of water. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Out like a light," he answered after gulping some of the water, his upper lip wet. "What about you?"

"About the same," I said, stretching my legs underneath the blankets. "Weird dreams, though."

"Weird, drunk dreams?"

"Exactly." Weird dreams about your brother.

"How are you feeling?" Josh asked, sitting up so our shoulders were touching.

I contemplated the question for a moment. "Okay." I still couldn't tell him. I just couldn't. Things were already weird enough between Jake and I, I didn't need to make things weird between Josh and I or, even worse, between him and Jake. "I think I was just too drunk."

"You and me both," he replied, finishing off the water and handing me back the empty glass. He sighed and leaned against my shoulder, slumping down a bit and looking up at me. "But seriously–I just want to know you're okay. I've definitely seen you cry before but never while drunk. You're a happy drunk."

His kindness was making it more difficult to not tell him. It was even more difficult when, upon looking down at him and meeting his eyes, Josh looked so much like Jake to me in that moment. Normally they looked like two totally different people despite being identical, but there was something about the way his face was from that angle and in that soft, hazy grey morning light that made Josh look like Jake.