A White Deer, Crowned Poem by Mark Heathcote

I must fasten an hour of my thoughts to your lips
I must hasten not a minute interlinked with your hips
I must wade in the mire of my own, passion and drown
I must awaken by your side a white deer, crowned.
Sleep on a thrown - pillow on either side of my head
Know my time its throes with one, has been well shed.
I must away, one day fly, like a sooty old blackbird.
And die without a word more to be written or heard.
For every pearl has an ocean that was made-for-rest
Now I have loved you, near and far, I am much blessed
My heart aches for the ashes of a dark scolding spark.
My soul awaits your kisses to sing like a meadowlark.
I am soliciting an early taste of your forbidden love.
I am cooing verses in the hope of a forever hereof.
Sated lust, every feather, lies plucked at the breast-
If-mine or any other is to find some sort-of-eternal rest.