A Cold Validation Poem by Mark Heathcote

Love cries out through the windows of her heart.
Where each pane of glass has now been broken.
In a soul that would cherish this upstart:
Her heart wilts frozen and bleeds red like Canaan.
Each sash cord cut adds a jail bar—more.
In deserts, thrown near suns of ash and dust
She wails and tears as if for a musical score.
Instruments symphonic; symbols of lust
crash tuneless, like the wings of a flightless bird.
A fallen angel to a godless world
Love, bloated once a carrion corpse curd.
Walk's now among the living dead, her heart knurled.
A thimble that no needle thread can repair.
Such as the wounds we desperate lovers wear.