Filter out the dreamless, sleepless dark
By Mark Heathcote
- 248 reads
“You’d ask me to change, ha!
But what would I change to
Haven’t I already given—over to you?
Would you have me an opaque jewel?
Would you irradiate a clear diamond?
Just to turn it a fashionable blue”.
“I’m not here by way of a fashion statement.
To befit each changing, season’s gown”.
“I’m not a leaf, which withers red and yellow,
Trembling on orchards hallowed ground:
Flesh is piping a sunny hotpot honey gold.
Filled with a green-yew-saps desire,
Ancient; I am an English longbow,
I’ll only bend so far; before?
Arrows backfire on their true course.
Needless to say, need I say more!
My need is to needle-out a sharing soul.
If not yours; then change, I will. I, will?
Find me a doe, a clear-white-stone.
With her at my arrow head, she’ll
Wall us both in a secret barred snail shell
Carve life and death into one good breath.
Together like lichens and green moss…
Around some eternal inert church-clock
Fingerless her moonlit heart shall shine its face.
Windup my soul, filter out dreamless, sleepless dark
That never nearer—changes?
- Log in to post comments