December morning, well before the start
of memory or planning for the day,
just half-awake I hear the birds at play
and give no thought to how things fall apart.
I lie so still I know the secret heart
of all that breathes and all that drifts away;
and as the room dissolves from black to gray
I think of X-rays and the doctors’ charts. . . .
. . . a year ago? The day they broke the news
I still recall the tremor in your face
and walking to the car on stumbling feet
and fearing every little pain or bruise.
Last night I reached to find you in your place,
forgetting, and touched only icy sheets.
Today was my first full day off from work in about three weeks. I have done a little writing, but very disjointed and fragmentary. Lucky for me, Sam Peralta over at tonight’s dVerse Form For All has us writing Miltonic sonnets–and one of my fragments lent itself easily to the form. I was able to keep the meter and the rhymes very close, with the ABBAABBACDECDE form. I also tried to stay true to Milton’s ordinary use of indented lines. Happy writing, all! Hopefully I will not be called in to work tomorrow, and I can do what I enjoy–reading and commenting on y’all’s wonderful poetry!
[Edited: I need to pay better attention before posting. I removed an extra “?” in l. 9 that remained after moving some phrases around. I kept playing with that line, and still do not care for it as it is. Maybe later.]