Tuesday, February 8, 2011
One Fast Sonnet Later
"One Fast Sonnet Later"
Eisenglass tips. pantyhose rips. You count
to ten, and ten, and ten again. Babies
born, fourteen deaths. Empty bassinets bounce
between yesses, nos (nose) and all the maybes.
Well (Stone) people mimic the throes of rabies,
and the Sum's Sum never loses and ounce.
This is how (why) we love and fear the zanies—
always prepared (ready) to caress or pounce.
One fast sonnet later, turned one-forty
trying to grasp, lost in definition
assignment speed, patterns of woven yarn.
My prayer is this: so fast (predicted:) the tsunami
no time to lose count in the solution
and every crystal thread torn (breaks) into shards (shreds).