Like Flailing A Dead Sea Monster Poem by Mark Heathcote

I can advocate "love, " until eardrums burst and bleed.
Until your heart is a red pomegranate seed squeezed?
But it's like flailing a Dead Sea monster into life
hoping a tide will rise and resurrect the long-dead
and carry them offshore to a recuperation chamber.
And like a pearl in some gothic housed splendour
or a seahorse chanting at the bit, you'll rediscover it
once-again for a split second only, find tears to cry.