The inheritance of love

Height is genetic, much like the cusps of our ears
Or tongue-rolling or blood type. The clench and
Sob of heart diseases, too, are genetic: has love congealed
Into cubes of fat pork blood, or: are they even filled to begin with?

Humans learn behaviour through watching, and through watching
I have learnt about love by proxy. From when I opened my eyes to
Embrace the universe reflected in theirs I could only see
Myself. The bedtime stories I groped around for in dreams
Were never about happy endings. I learnt about romance through
Other means: hurtling glass back and forth, communicating. I will wait to
Present the heirloom to my children and I imagine how I’d do it.

Here (I plucked them from inside my coat like a magician),
Take this translucent balloon and watch me make a flower
Or pop it to make you cry. Wear the tattered shreds around
Your finger and say I do. Repeat I do I do I do and remind yourself that
This is the fault of genetics and you are only as bound
By the sad rubber ring as you are by the flaccid pink umbilical
Connecting you to me to the palpitating of hearts.