Sonnet 3
Created | Updated Sep 7, 2006
(dedicated to Brenda Doyle. Rachael's mum d 1981)
My monument for you is wet tears. I
mark the place in me; feel the space in me
demand that time will not erase from me
the fragments of our hurried last goodbye.
Never again will I be gathered up
in you; enfolded, sleeping, in your bed.
Now somehow circumstance has put a stop
to you I grasp at sentences unsaid.
My eulogy for you was raw pain. I
learned lines for you, committed crimes for you
desperately acted out my time for you
in search for love’s approval in your eyes.
My gift for you is this child. He healed me.
I will recapture all you left for me.
My monument for you is wet tears. I
mark the place in me; feel the space in me
demand that time will not erase from me
the fragments of our hurried last goodbye.
Never again will I be gathered up
in you; enfolded, sleeping, in your bed.
Now somehow circumstance has put a stop
to you I grasp at sentences unsaid.
My eulogy for you was raw pain. I
learned lines for you, committed crimes for you
desperately acted out my time for you
in search for love’s approval in your eyes.
My gift for you is this child. He healed me.
I will recapture all you left for me.
