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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - Octagon-love
M A Heathcote
Does her ivy an oak bough cleave?
When her body is clenched in unison
Does a twofold breath still bereave?
Itís one single, singularity, in motion.
Does he tent-peg her octagon-love
High or low in her valley of stars
Does she yearn more deeply, above?
Or below, compass arthritic arms.
And should both their oceans mingle...
Like a green velvet salt-sea-spray...
Let each dual shipwreck slowly shingle...
A salvage slipknots anchor away.
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