That's My Heart Right There
Whenever I misinterpret a piece of literature, my first reaction — like most people, I imagine — is embarrassment. A painfully memorable incident of this occurred when I was in creative writing school. A Laotian student employed the metaphor of immigrant women selling precious orchids for economic security in America, and I was about the only person in the workshop who thought he was referring to literal flowers. Everyone except me understood he was trying to artfully refer to prostitution.
Maybe I just really loved the imagery of exotic orchids or something, and wanted the story to be about something nice like that.
Sometimes misreadings can be interesting, though. When I first heard Willie Perdomo’s poem “That’s My Heart Right There,” I didn’t immediately connect with it as a love poem. The interview with the author clearly demonstrates that’s the correct reading.
My initial interpretation was of a more self-reflective nature. I understood it as the speaker referring to his own heart. Of a person declaring the dignity of his emotions; the softest, most vulnerable part of himself. A warning to those who would trifle with his heart.
Perhaps the biggest reason I missed this is because I’m not black, or from Brooklyn. The “We used to say,” invokes a communal idiom, that of referring to a loved one as “my heart.”
Then again — I think the two interpretations go together nicely. When you love someone, you are as protective of them as you are your own body. Your own soul. That’s why poetry captivates me. Like music, it conveys emotion rather than literal meaning. It’s porous, like a sponge, and has room to accept the meaning you bring to it.
That’s My Heart Right There
BY WILLIE PERDOMO
We used to say,
That’s my heart right there.
As if to say,
Don’t mess with her right there.
As if, don’t even play,
That’s a part of me right there.
In other words, okay okay,
That’s the start of me right there.
As if, come that day,
That’s the end of me right there.
As if, push come to shove,
I would fend for her right there.
As if, come what may,
I would lie for her right there.
As if, come love to pay,
I would die for that right there.
Read the interview with the poem’s author at The Poetry Foundation.
