Like Flailing A Dead Sea Monster
M
Mark Heathcote
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I can advocate 'love, ' until my 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, finding tears to cry.
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