Mark Heathcote

O I'm look for something,
past all remembrance
Cutting through a field
like a plough, I hear
a church bell?
an old crow like a harpsichord…
furrow… after… furrow…
until—I hit. An old solidified, bough!
that is no longer!
no longer! the yolk of an acorn.
No longer! a green sapling, spire!
oh honey…
oh honey…
oh honey…
how do we chose a bow?

a sapling yew! here… here… here…
there is only some old bog-oak …remains,
a black ore kindling…
where some scarlet red dragons
long since died
scorching the ground
praying to be unearthed
and put to flames…
in a clearing…
for pastures—new!

Oh honey…
Oh I'm looking for…
Oh I'm looking for…
Oh I'm looking for something,
almost mystical in you! ! !
Oh I'm looking for…
a knight to rescue …my heart …again.
To the sound of armour!
to the sound of a church bell
that same old same
with… you!

O I'm look for something,
past all remembrance
with… you!