Sonnets

Context — I once kept an improbable correspondence alive with a brain I admired passionately. I pleasantly lose myself in her creativity. We lived far from one another. Wrote this on the evening March 13, 2011, and originally numbered my 49th sonnet.

fatigue and fervor, boxing gloves on fist
throw blows atop the parquet ‘tween my skull,
with neither happy just to coexist:
for navigating, one’s enough to scull.
the clock’s each tick a darker night invites,
a looser gaze and heightened heart displayed,
till point past prime when rising sun ignites
the wish that missive butterfly bliss stayed.
two feelings locked, as black holds white from yin,
melee in muck and muddy those in view.
one pines for slices of your mind wherein
their warmth allows me sleep to then eschew.
this daily bout has left you well enmeshed
in routines that now leave me well refreshed.