pearls

Sonnet 25

Posted in quatorzain by maggie on 2007/02/18
Sonnet 25

I know the feel of emptiness, at rest
Within the valley of my throat, a cliff
Of granite swallowing up night, possessed
By how far, how soon, not how to nor if.

Some preparations I tolerate the taste
But expel quickly, all the remnants rinsed.
That which ventures further is but waste
Whose meat speaks like a poet unconvinced.

I don't mind smoke, the smooth carress of gin,
The heat of certain juices, water's ease
-- Little else of substance ventures in.

My throat feels open, pure and fresh and clean,
No god above nor under me to please
-- My breath like thin air, quiet and serene.

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