A Tenant Is He - Poem by Mark Heathcote
A tenant is he the would-be bee
Too husband a flower.
That wishes not, her ambles free
In fear of the seed-plougher
O her rose of purest white
Now crimsons the purple night
Clings ravenous the oak bower
That would-be sting endower
O she would, encapsulate
All of his space and time
O she would, emasculate
Him, bring him into her climbs.
Bring him into her watchtower
He a homeless tenant, outlier
He is her man of the hour
He is to be her bee emulsifier.
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