From sorcerers within: your deadly doom
we wilted, waiting for your train to leave.
A panting breath we heard its hiss of fumes
you clung to life in pain, I fought to grieve
our loss; but in my anger soon forgot
to fill your cup and kiss your parchment skin.
We could have written songs, instead we fought
relentless schedules believing we could win
against the train you had been waiting for;
but soon the color of your bluebells waned
that night you smiled and opened up the door
and left me on the platform — I was slain
alone and sleeping underneath our trees:
the summer knell’s a quiver in the breeze.
This is linked to Magpie tales, and is the final installment of my crown of sonnet. The narrative can be followed all the way to this bitter end. I’m still not satisfied with the concluding sonnet that consist of the last lines of all the other sonnets, and I will need to go back and rework all the preceding ones to create that final heroic crown. Here are the sonnets so far: Bluebells, The tear of tears, Before the monsters, When we had built a nest, Let’s mend the bridges, Your icicles, Our highway through the sky, The emptiness of brine, Of carnivores and feeble frills, Silver filigree, Your words: perfume, A pair of crows and The poison spell
April 26, 2015