Mark Heathcote Poems

Cracking loves enigma, dictatorships —
Nether regions, must you hear a feather!
Don't explain, twitching, feeling, fingertips
Don't confound each moment spent together
...

My life's a clockwork toy.
It's had some broken parts
And has a few rusty old springs
A few broken mended limbs
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Some don't require barred windows or locked doors
whatever crimes frankly they've committed
by far the worst, apathy, omitted.
The fact they no longer care, everything bores?
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Let me touch, kiss you, like apple-blossom
Let my lips like two meeting side streets
Serpentine your spine, let me be Merlin,
Ah, listening, magically the reeds.
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My spirit is in its solar eclipse
It is fulfilling to think, not posture.
This ascension isn't an apocalypse.
It's a time my muse takes an adventure.
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What is your calamity, crying daily?
Why are you frowning on every passing stranger?
Why do they only present you with some hidden danger?
Love, darling, dear!
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I made a promise to my abandoned neglected heart
That when tonight is over and it gets cold and dark.
I'll walk you back down that old lover's lane
And calm your trembling hand, just the same…
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There is a rose in every candle flame
where the heat is at its highest point
it's-here-my-love-and-I meet to reclaim
our ceremonial oils and anoint;
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Outside a large door, teal paint is flaking
And above the ornate lead transom light-
Cobwebbed: shows us there is no mistaking
This place is a place of neglect—despite
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Blue miserable beginnings need happy endings
So, if your life has been just a hard struggle
You've gotta believe all those hexes
Are gonna end with a chuckle.
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