A Short Pause Before And After Poem by Mark Heathcote

Her cleavage, a breathless butterfly
drinks from the pool of lust and love
reckless, her weight a fallen dove
'shows no desire for fear or flight.'

Little-yet or still none for these-
cessations to stop ghostly, white.
'She is my painted lady distressed
clinging and pulling at my vest'.

Windblown, feathers find little rest.
A short pause before and after
our jointly shared amber nectar
'passes for what was eternal happiness'.