a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (19)

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.

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WHAT lies before me I can scarce foretell
as I grope my way down corridors and halls
around me back-lit symbols glint upon the walls
glyphs etched in stone forgotten phrases spell
veins in ore or markings on a scallop shell
that hold far-distant memories in thrall
I stumble on into a chamber tall
capacious, vaulted like a citadel
and in the center, an abysmal well
beside the well a radiant figure stands
drawing water from within its deeps
the angel takes it up into his hands
and upon me a strange sensation creeps
as slowly I begin to understand
and suddenly I’m overcome with sleep

Photo by Gary Meulemans on Unsplash