Two Over Lapping Uncivilized Sheets Of Ice Poem by Mark Heathcote

As moonlight curdles with the street light
eyelids bat like they wanted some of that.
She fills her lungs and drains his red blood cells
what a calling this is by the privets roadside.
Yes, blinking all fireflies thrown-aback
hearts beating close to a heart attack.
They'll know now to never look back.
Curdled in the moonlight,
with their cheesecloth souls half-eaten like linin
they'll touch each other's greasy damp skin
without the limits to ever - hold lust back.
As a wind harps, fallen leaves fish in puddles
with misshaped dreams, their footsteps splash.
Disillusion has yet to take its rightful place
they're yet to feel the cut of hurt in their disgrace
like two overlapping, uncivilized, sheets of ice.