fear full pitcher pours
trickles
a damp idea of
soaked
leaks
into the sockets and eyes
you feel your brain
an organ Icarus tic tock
pastoral growth on a
nerveless range
a picture
of nervous longing
wholly spirit
it swirls in you
and drains
you move your hands
barely conscious
like lovers kiss
before they die
you might
be reborn
after five minutes of death
a poem is a seizure
Kevin Nigel Watson 