XIX. Sonnets for Dancer

Seeking somnolence somewhere deep,

unlight upon noises, scents incomplete

as I ponder these depths, limitations meek

in the bright of some cadence, soon to repeat

me, the final, your incarnate undone

as toes touch banal, fingers ring now

a bell left unhung, our wind still unsung

when air lofts outwards, lifts as to sow

in your distant gardens, your glittering shores

of spark-lit cities with telephonic discord

pouring out ice from skies yet unformed–

I hope that those jewels for you are reborn

to a world new of unanticipated delight

which may as May comes, as lambs might.

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