Sonnet 2
I wish to fill this white earth day with song,--
rising from bed with a mouth full of alphabet soup,
placing letters in the air with my tongue;
I will watch every plan turn to soot
when my toes press the winter-bitten carpet
& my throat will crack on regardless
of how the tracks on the ground below fade like jet
contrails; & I slip back into dreaminess----
But around around around goes the prickly sugar
outside my blindless window; spit & wound
in its dance, so unaware of time & nerves
only existing as a descending heavenly neighbor
caught up in its own weight & sound--
I pray I learn to curl my voice to its curves.
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