Tanka's Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

the strong are the weak
give them pneumonia and watch
they'll cry—tears like a baby
in its crib for its mother
strong are the weak who cry first
*

the wardrobe
contains suits and living moth's
then soon nothing fits
except a wicker coffin
the promise of butterflies
*

is it love that you
are feeling when you go work
is it love that you
are feeling—sir—when you milk
your skinny old dairy herd
*
quarantine my heart,
my soul, I faced near death
tonight - quite alone
apart from one sweet angel
one who took the time to phone

*
relentless cleaning
ashes to ashes - dust to dust
then literally nothing
but a sideboard of
antique photos
*
never seen a ghost
apple—I could truly eat
without losing my-
admiration first of all
and having it melt away
*

wicker figurine
depicted with a lily
or a gold trumpet
God's divine messenger
angel Gabriel—he's sparkling
*