Afterthought 173—A Doppelgänger’s Complaint

Posted in sonnet by maggie on 2015/05/09

If I possessed such magic as might weave
vibrations through the wind such as dare dance
the stars through myths and legends we believe,
my spells would cast our night its own romance
in gold and silver circles wrapped in ice
as delicate as light's transparent veil
revealing word in love's most secret vice
and love retracing blood's worst wayward trail.  

I don't. The surest song I try to raise
falls flat, chokes on its bone, avoids
its own reflection, pastes in hoary grays
on grays, finds beauty in its hemorrhoids. 

Obloquy suits the ear, no?  Let each word
be child unknown, unwritten and unheard. 

4 Responses

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  1. clarioretenebris said, on 2015/05/11 at 08:33

    Authentic miracle to some’s bad accident
          despite the obvious evidence,
    like a loved name given with all honor meant
          is shrugged off as coincidence.

    • maggie said, on 2015/05/14 at 05:28

      What strange unanticipated symmetry
      follows its destruction undefiled
      by sins she sinned by calling after me
      the names I used in naming my first child.

  2. comrogue said, on 2015/05/11 at 10:49

    So, is she your doppelgänger
    or were you born hers?
    With what she thinks she’ll be saying
    your mouth beforehand concurs.

    • maggie said, on 2015/05/14 at 09:59

      Her daughter, you could easily take me for,
      were it not I lost mine to their fires.
      Her mother I have seen in lives before
      my mirror caught her in my eyes’ desires.

Sincere comment by readers who accept responsibility for their words will earn my appreciation and response.

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