Animal, Carnal Attractions… Poem by Mark Heathcote

Sorry, it's been nice, but with an ordinance of grace
This narcosis of smoke & mirrors is over
It's been a false high, an opiate-manufactured dream of lust.
A drug you've decided we must each still believe in
That we must breathe in. Have a collected faith in
Or else we'll both die, miserably.

Sorry, but for me, it was just the stupor
Of a drunken night spent together
It was just some animal, carnal attraction
And now that its morning, I feel-I'm-caught
Trapped in a barb wire noose,
Wanting-to-gnaw-off a limb and hang loose.

Sorry, my apologies it was just the hangover speaking
Let us go back to bed and pillow talk
My legs, they're too tired, I don't feel like walking
Not all arthropods are capable of casting off a limb,
Let's go back to bed for one more night of passion.
And begin, again.

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A shawl of apricot

She wears a skirt of honeysuckle
A with one-eyed serpent buckle
And says nature is her groom
She wears a shawl of apricot
Says she, she's a goddess of the moon
She grips a serpent by his faggot
And eats an apple, white bloom
Says she'd slay old Sir Lancelot.
Lay him dust upon his tomb,
But she's no more an angel
Trifling penitents in a brothel
Then the punters in her room
No more the lady of shallot,
Then nickel is gold to a fool.