Sonnet 152, The Distances, Second Series (from The Songs Of The Erinnyes, Sonnets, Odes, and Elegies by Jay Noya, Brigantium Press)

Sonnet 152



Sonnet 152



There are days when I don’t care to know who I am
Or who it is that I pretend to be just as there are days when the heavens
Collapse and bury me with the trees and the sea of my ancestors
When the days the eye sees are brief and ungovernable demonic things
In my wait I wait for you and am forced to reinvent the light
It’s to be the wait of the rock’s cold flint with an ivory moon
Blotting out this penumbra blinding me and lengthening its finger-like tendrils
There are days when you’ve gone that all sinks into a virulence
That overwhelms the dawn and turns all light yellow and putrid
There are days when your voice is a ghostly string vibrating in my ears
Wafted on the wings of evening and snagged by windows and doors
This music that is you isn’t a memory and it isn’t light proper
To see and live by because it’s a flitting transmission that baffles
And torments me and leaves me to shiver and sicken in black rain





© J.Noya 2010