Pack Dog Predators Poem by Mark Heathcote

While I was alone, I was turning the dials
the radio buzzed like some neon dragonfly
but sadly I couldn't focus my mind
I couldn't find a station that spoke clearly to me
not even for a while, it buzzed and buzzed
and left me feeling-even-more, hollow alone.

While I was alone, I flicked through the TV Channels
nothing caught my fancy everything just echoed.
Bounced off the ceiling, the walls and floors
repeats of repeats are lost in background noise.
The sound of silence a-flown nest, vegetative-
that once had happier memories in a blackthorn hedge.

Entanglements of love leave you blooded
sometimes family members are pack dog predators
like someone newly initiated in a hunt
they're hunting for your heart and soul, one-sided
in a ceremony of the old, retold and retold
only now it's your turn, and it's getting-awfully-cold.