Tectonic Plates Poem by Mark Heathcote

Tectonic Plates



I have longed to kiss
that brow of sunken silence
I have longed to reminisce-
the furrowed arches she'd raised.
Such tenderness abreast
is spellbinding, tainted-
at worst; fractures, like these
are tectonic plates, moving, southwest?
But I swear I still have her heart and soul.
They're still under my house arrest-
even though I'm now, homeless.

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