Treasure Island

Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

A brooch of butterflies


I never did notice
Deaths gape advancing…
Peeking at, me.
Until, I was watching him.

I’d seen him in the closet
In the brooch of butterflies
I crumpled in my pocket.

I’d seen him in the dark eyes,
Of a roadside, rabbit
With tyre print fur…
And a broken jaw socket.

It’s only now I’ve noticed Death.
'That he’s been playing-
All along, hide and seek'.

Did, I think to ask of him?
To count backwards,
Sure enough, I did both
But he’ll cheat, and I’ll be found…

Like a brooch butterfly crumpled
In his childlike, large, pocket.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Edited: Sunday, March 23, 2014

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