A Poem Holds Your Hand
A poem holds your hand
It whispers come gather
These windblown, fruits
Eat of this sun's lather.
The bee stamens sting,
Is like a gloved fist.
And, like the poet's pen!
Must die a little to coexist.
Vertigo, dizzies itself on a cleft
Like a blackbird in full song!
The chorus is short-lived:
But its echoes are lifelong.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Poem Holds Your Hand by Mark Heathcote )
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