a poem for today, 3 January 2012
[a letter sort sonnet in eight sentences with its image]
I hear the scream above the pizzicato, but it seems off-key to me.
The girls not only had fun, they also got a good workout in the process.
Different theories follow different paths to different ends.
Why the note makes so much of the gift aspect after the fact is odd.
I knew before I ever took the test that it would come back positive.
That should go without saying: but it seems that I need to say it.
When I’m ready to let him go I’ll let him go but I’ll never let him go.
So I renounced and sadly see: where word breaks off no thing may be.
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