a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan sonnets (83)

Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. This is more-or-less an actual Petrarchan sonnet so it will not be preceded by my usual exculpatory disclaimer about having departed from the paradigmatic form.

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THE NORTHERN wind that bites your cheek today
your sails will fill and bear you on the sea
the ocean at your back, you’ll face the lee
as unseen power sharing bear you on your way
your memories cast aftward in the spray
you’ll watch as they’re refolded seamlessly
like backward-turning leaves upon a tree
or a night that could rescind the break of day
indeed, that Northern Star my eye has spied
that lantern held aloft on angel’s wings
and what can harm a man who’s long since died?
so bind me to the mast, let sirens sing
and if this soul should fail, yet still it tried
and may that in your eye some favor bring?

Photo by Mareks Steins on Unsplash