Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

A Bitter Froth Travels On A Night Wave


A bitter froth travels on a night wave
And pulls back my covers my night gown
And sets a fire around me
Whilst indignantly, my heart still weeps.

He says he is the bane of a white moon
And I am what pulled him up from the depths.
I held him like a grain of sand and all too soon
He fell through my hand.

So then I took an Aspin and I began to quiver
Then somewhere on another shore he was fast asleep
And I was left with even more than nothing
But the feeling of a pirate ghost once lost in my sheets.

A bitter froth travels on a night wave
And pulls back my covers my night gown
And sets a fire around me
Whilst indignantly, my heart still leaps.

I listen to the wind and then I dream of kerosene
It’s burning all over me and the gulls
Screaming; in wild misery over the wild sea.
They’re all looking, looking for the bones of me
Beneath a salty wave a salty wave on the sea.

Submitted: Tuesday, January 07, 2014
Edited: Sunday, March 23, 2014
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