Your Kisses Inflame My Thoughts
M
Mark Heathcote
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You'd like us to talk, well it's banal.
Your kisses inflame my thoughts,
like a war correspondent's journal
all they do is lead to more pot-shots
is this how spies defect and embrace?
Crossing borders; without losing face.
You think I haven't lost my home,
my country. When I search your eyes
I find only a marksman's catacomb.
Double-barrelled pointed replies
aimed at my heart; readied to open fire!
"Haven't I already given my life, entire? "
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