Afterthought 910—Sonnet -5

Posted in nothing special, sonnet, sonnet cycle by maggie on 2016/02/17
His mourning by the night's black prison walled
with complications, over which scars traced
the days of years authorities erased
from ghosts of former prisoners, forestalled
just long enough to crack into, he crawled
on hands and knees through poisoned blood encased
in scab.  His goddess crept inside him, chaste
as moonlight, cold as beds where they fell sprawled.

No mention of him made it to the news,
no recognition of the wave of grief,
depression, pain and shame in which he drowned
his solitude. His child was never found.
Such miracles are killed by unbelief
conceived in doubt. Whom he loves, he must lose.

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

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: