unkempt Sonnet --

when we are lovers entwined in a curious spelling

of syllables for contemplation we wield

words as axes the thematic shift telling

us we’ve come to the battle with shield,

sword, and incensed arrival – we’ve grown

rich with Sacrifice this horizon that we cross;

memory of an ailing Knight, his Wound

uncovered in Evening’s quiet loss –

what manner of man is He who hides under stairs

to trick his demons into submission?

We hold out our hands, our instep, our glare

at this, a prescient moment master’s schism --

in certain circles birds fly blind

transcending blood, transcending time --