Monday, July 2, 2012

Sonnet Ten for Will

Heaven knows that you are not to blame
if someone’s base opinion vexes you:
one might as well insult your family’s name
as casts aspersions on your point of view.
They’ve slathered offal doubt upon the vast
and varnished surface of your certainty
till only fragrant censorship can mask
the awful odor of their perfidy.
If you’re offended by my surly pen,
or by my sullen utterance, it’s clear
that you should never speak to me again,
Your reaction’s quite in order, Dear.
How can anyone forgive the sting
when someone dares to question anything?

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