Redemptive Lovers Poem by Mark Heathcote

My love, we haven't danced or linked arms
like those leafless apple trees in the orchard.
Not for a while have we rolled in the weir
ankle to ankle, souls, bobbing naked inward-
drowning 'indeed no air-bubbles left' we're
in no rush, inertia holds no more alarms.

For us around the corner, spring is waking.
As for the moment; its icy, dark waters-
rolling over us like boulders yearning in circles
only-tantalize the fires in our closed quarters.
In truth, we've tasted all their musk tendrils-
their flowering ivy boughs, lovingly, bursting.