Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
My love we haven’t danced or linked arms
Like those leafless apple trees in the orchard.
Not for a while have we rolled in the weir…
Ankle to ankle, souls, bobbing naked inward-
Drowning – 'need no air-bubbles' - we’re -
In no rush, inertia has no more – alarms.
For us… around the corner spring is waking.
As for the moment; its icy dark waters—
Rolling; over boulders, yearningly in circles…
Only tantalize the fires, in our closed quarters.
In truth we have tasted all their musk tendrils...
...Of flower, and ivy bough, lovingly, bursting.
Comments about this poem (Redemptive lovers… by Mark Heathcote )
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