The darkness lurking deep among the pines
is that the poison spell that filled your veins?
or dead canaries in the depth of mines?
The rays to cure became our futile chain,
the dwindling days; it was the hairless rope
of smothered tears: in this torrential rain
of fevered chemotherapy: a hope
in purple bottles for your uneasy blood
of winter sparrows or the sound in dope,
in dreams of feather anvils or in floods
of aching bones to take you home; in gloom
of emptiness you left behind, in mud
that cringed with sweat, in screaming rooms
from sorcerers within: your deadly doom.
This is my second last composition in my sonnet corona. Today it’s play it again at toads, and I found one that fitted my poem (hope that retrofitting is ok) by Kenia, dealing with tercets. As many of my sonnets I have used Terza Rima, so this should qualify.
Previous installment in this series: 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 and A pair of crows.