a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan sonnets: №186

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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ABOVE ABYSMAL chasms, churning seas
where creatures of the deep are wont to hide 
with shriveled innards, jaws that open wide,
whose terrible aspect makes the blood to freeze,
that seek upon the lonely soul to seize
and draw her back unto their famished pride—
but high above these pits and seas all I’ll stride
upon a bridge where I can take my ease;
a bridge of longing hung between our hearts
that spans the distance over time and space
and stretches out as long as we’re apart
for tensile cords suspend its form with grace
my soul’s at ease for I have made my start
and I know at the end I’ll see your face

Photo by Ben Green on Unsplash