Keats On Heat

Hockey eyed
slack jawed
licked haired lover,
where is you?

I wait
baby faced
iced lungs
by the locked door,
dumb phone
jammed window;
for you
to call or kiss
love and argue,
take mine eyes from me.

Heartbeat
there you are,
criss cross
there you go;
tongue tied
my soul forever,
throwing echoes
at thy fire...

@Steven Francis poems 1998