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The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - The root of the tare

The root of the tare

by

M A Heathcote

When a dour light
Extends a hand...
Be it not a nettle!
Be it but? The laurel

Within that vestibule-
Kneeling; each must stand...
Trefoil in an emulsifying-light!
In god’s great garden faithful.

Be it not a morganatic-
Marriage of despair
Be it but? A world-

A flower ensues to ensnare!
Be it anything! But a vacant liar
Be it his holy—word!
Pastoral and Pragmatic!

But grant it’s vulgar
Common vetch, lustful, virtues,
The roots of the tare!
So as not to err...
Too far from, casket mildews

From: lovers, adieus.


To visit all of M A Heathcote's poems, click HERE


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