Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Sonnet Three for Will

Your cursory and unfamiliar nod
in answer to my smile, and my wave
stings infinitely worse than any rod
that goads a stubborn jackass to behave.
Your flighty and intoxicated mien
when I am with someone you wish to charm
is twice as cruel as any mocking screed,
and twice as suitable for lasting harm.
You’re thoughtless, and you’re plastic: who’d believe
that you would cause such chaos in my soul?
I ought to tie this sweater’s tattered sleeve
around my tortured eyes until you go:
the less of what I long for that I see
the more unmoving my resolve shall be.

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