The Chariots Cloth We Too Would Drown In Poem by Mark Heathcote

Tears will voice there evaporation
Their tales of love chilling desolation.

Each residue is part of an ocean,
Souls tauten-hemp, attached to necks capstan.

That is ready to snap, from its winches
Dance; free on its, anchored chained-haunches.

Make wave like leaps, bewitched by a siren
Come drown take thee to a waterside coffin.

Tears choking, chortling, now like a seahorse
Let us fray on the ocean floor, speak Norse…?

Touch the hem cloth of Nerthus once more
Be drowned slaves in secret lakes onshore.

If, all discover their own goddess of peace
Who'll be left with their personal caprice?

Bind hands and legs, you unholy devils
If, wars waged on love meltdown sword metals.

Lavish her still with tears to drown her stay
Else keep her happy, bedded in horseplay.