Dispatched To A Watery Hereafter Poem by Mark Heathcote

Soak me with your kisses
drench me, till I drown,
I no longer want to be rescued.
I no longer want an Eiderdown pillow alone.

Be a siren in the wind.
Let me crash against the rocks.
Let the coral reefs of my soul stretch free.
Be the kelp that entangles me.

Be the conch shell that calls to my distant heart.
Let me fall like an anchor:
rest like a sunken vessel in the dark
and find only buried treasure.

'Siren, enchanter-
after we've made love
and I'm no longer flotsam,
I'm no longer a cadaver.'

Dispatched to a watery hereafter
I'm no longer a Bog Myrtle insect repellent.
Revitalised, I'm a pond skater dancing on air.
Hearing-music violins, just about everywhere.

Soak me with your kisses
drench me, till I drown,
I no longer want to be rescued.
I no longer want to stab, Poseidon's trident-
or take his or any other's lion's share or crown.