The power of the unhealed wound that yet
has not scarred over. Though I pull a sleeve,
button gingerly — favoring my right,
you press your fingers, probing nonetheless
too late, I hide a flinch, you see and do
I see a smile, self-satisfied, denied
too late for you to hide? Disqualified
we two, averting eyes — so there’s the truth
of love, not love, but power-play and games,
of parry, thrust, be-first-to-pierce-the-skin.
Take back your sword and flee — don’t linger here;
no balm, no herbs, but poison in your hands.
With tea, a cup of kindness brewed alone,
I’ll meditate on injuries I’ve made
A college poetry prof handed out stats regarding sonnets that I am too lazy to look up and too tired to recall, but the take-away remains – Blank Verse (they don’t rhyme but do all the other sonnet stuff) is the ruling party by shear numbers. I prefer BV sonnets though I like putting in some internal rhymes because it sounds cool when you read it out loud. Go ahead – read it out loud. Preferably from a roof-top – my favorite place to shout poetry. Linking to dVerse.