Each Sash Cord Cut 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, tears as if a musical score.
Instruments symphonic; symbols of lust
crash tuneless, like wing's of a flightless bird
a fallen angel to a godless world
love bloated once a carrion corpse curd
now walks among the living dead heart knurled
a thimble no needle thread can repair-
such the wounds we desperate lovers wear.