Immersed…
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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The night is a nicotine patch.
A burnish of black leather…
A bleeding scratch
…On a naked nether.
It is altogether a womb,
Some giants, eyelid blinking
A mammoth's, bog, tomb…
Glinting of times, eroding.
Sleep navigates its marshes
Through - nightmare—forest.
Crawling into reeds, sedges
Standing, fearfully deforest.
Legs trembling—in coyness
Light is again touched
And rousingly it is loved
Immersed in a new, mistress.
Wed,18 Jun 2008
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