Treasure Island

Mark Heathcote

(22/03/66 / Manchester)

Nestled closer to the dark…


I’m going to my winding sheet
But not before I close my eyes
Only because I need to rest
And I can’t stand lies…

You know it’s dark. When—
Even the giraffes can’t see the stars.
And I’ve stretched my neck so far…
I can’t close my tired eyes.

Even when my heart
Wants only to reside in its sin…
Nestled closer to the dark…
So, I say sometimes let it all begin.

But like I say I can’t, so
What can I do but linger on…
Till, I’m crushed by something,
More concrete than a loitering spark.

Submitted: Saturday, November 02, 2013

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