Opening Gesture

Posted in sonnet, sonnet cycle by maggie on 2014/04/01

Wrapped in last night's visions, I set out
to find the one who'll choose to be my child,
for I have seen him, icy eyes as wild
as winter's passion, dark breath hot as drought
as if created in love's fiercest shout
before the moment died. From dream exiled
to settle for this morning's work beguiled,
I let cold winds this mother's prayers reroute.
I don't believe some casual accident
would have imagination strange enough
to fool some god at lending me his seed
for nothing more than someone who could bleed
as much as I can bleed. Let's call his bluff,
see what gets said against what's said gets meant.
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