Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
This Daylights Love
Alone with her loneliness she'd placed
In a darkened segmented—basement:
Under her eyelids her impassionate prey.
Was had she not grown quite nauseate
Of being a moth beneath iron grates:
She'd long given-up on bat like wings.
But for her insular lusts of blood l tasted.
She'd have 'Love' stoppered affordably bottled.
Poured from; the ceiling of the Sistine chapel.
There her personifications of a nude fresco…
Lecherously, joining us; in this vampirism:
Would buttress against us; her kissing—
Sleepovers in a velvet casket of stars...
With her needs ancient as a pagan forest.
That longs for the starlight's faucet fix.
So her emotionalism's tap' runneth over …
As she reaches up from her foundations root:
Night butterflies fly-out: This daylights love
This daylights newly, amalgamated lover.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
- A Backwards Look In The Mirror
- A beggar’s bowl bonanza
- A better focus in the wind tonight
- A Bitter Froth Travels On A Night Wave
- A Bout Of Bronchitis!
- A bridge of joy
- A brooch of butterflies
- A Bullet or A Rocking Chair
- A candle flame
- A Candle Flames Tapper
- A child’s leverage
- A Common Brother
- A Copious Amount Of Love
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.