Dusk's Forgotten Sonnet

Saturday, July 17, 2021

The moon performs along midnight’s crest
balanced by a trapeze made of Orion.
Cinnamon coats my tongue,
dusk’s forgotten sonnet roars in my ears.
Street lamps, along cobbled roads, blaring
offering their song to the darkness.
Lulled to sleep,
dreams made of daylight.
My grandmother, resting her hands in
the pockets of her calico dress. 
Sunset echos into the hazel sea of her eyes.
Patches of dawn seep into my jaw
as I reach toward her.
I take a steady breath,
she is everywhere.

Then, fog makes a home along the shores
we strolled when I was five. 

Not defeated by monster or swords,
but tiny pinpricks that cause my hand
to go numb. 

This poem was published by Fish Barrel Review.

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