Out Of Their Laurels Like Greek Gods Poem by Mark Heathcote

'At night there are moonlit slugs…
Whose ivory body's comet'
'Out of their laurels' like Greek gods…
'Alone' these horned demons'
Taste the linden air for life.

'A life, that's far beyond aerials.
Far beyond our, own, receivers'
'As they sliver' into the darkness'
A glow… follows in their starless
Path: Through these open spaces.

'A Journey is taken, nightly, blind.
‘This is the quest' of a primrose hope.
'This is a ghostly, passage…
Into a virginal flesh' …unspoken… for.
Such is the hunger of all loves.

… (Even that of slugs') …