English
sonnet
The
Bloom
I
looked upon the flowers blooming, leaves
Of
flesh ascending t’ward the rising sun.
And
at the center I saw your face, weaves
Of
you that grew—because of what I’d done.
Your
eyes were closed within the petal’s frame,
Pollen
given by winged creatures of old,
Your
hardened bones stillborn despite the game
That
children play to pluck you from the fold.
You
are dozens. You are every flower,
A
denizen of this peaceful meadow.
Though
you died, I raised you through my power,
Giving
you time to thrive again and grow.
So
here I’ll wait until you fully bloom,
The
way you did when you had left my womb.
English
sonnet
An
Engagement by the Sea
She
came upon the bloated man at dawn,
Washed
ashore by the coming tide, tangled
Hair
wet from sea-water, face gaunt and drawn.
A
heavy frown, her lips wet and spangled,
She
turned to leave the swollen corpse alone,
But
when she felt the cold dead hand she spun,
And
saw the man lifting a seaworn stone.
With
outstretched hands that glistened in the sun,
He
gurgled words she did not understand,
And
rolled his eyes far back into his head,
Before
withdrawing back to the sea, hand
Now
holding hers, as if they would be wed.
With
the stone held upon her beating chest,
They
disappeared under the coming crest.
Spenserian
sonnet
The
Library Field
I
came upon a field where words were scrawled,
Plants
that stretched beyond the sky, secret roots
From
the ever-yawning mouths of gods, sprawled
Within
the dirt beneath my very boots.
There
hung a plant so ripe with hanging fruits,
One
such fruit with words etched upon its skin.
So
I plucked and ate and gave my tributes
As
the long-buried gods released their din.
The
fruit, I knew, was the life of their kin.
Their
skin held stories and secrets of old.
Of
the mouth of gods I ate, with a grin—
Until
nothing sat in the field but mold.
For
upon tasting, I had learned too much,
And
greatly wished that I had never touched.
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