Sonnet 35 Again, Still Short

Posted in quatorzain by maggie on 2007/02/25

To give myself the spirit you became
would shackle both our voices to the stone.
And what then? Would my victims match my aim?
Me with your cold blood? You with my bone?

A friend (you would have loved her) placed her hand
against her pane to trace words in the frost
while I with you retraced the days we'd planned
and frosted over all the ones we'd lost.

Dear ghost, you know I'll always have your voice
like ice caked thickly on my deepest pain.
But now I need to make a different choice:

Tomorrow I'll surrender them my knife
to guarantee the dream I'd hoped to gain:
The holes you've haunted, filling back to life.

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