a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №122

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. Also, I should acknowledge that the formal aspect of this “Petrarchan sonnet” is liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 15 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 5 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.

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I DREAMT last night I found myself inside
an upper room, an elevated space
with walls of fir that circumscribed the place
and rafters made of cedar, windows wide
received the beams of moonlight like a bride
her groom, and your right hand did me embrace
your left behind my head, and on your face
expression told me that I could confide
my dream in you and hear my dream you would
but then the night descended like a hood—
I wake to find the walls consumed in flame
as hungry tongues of fire lap up the wood
and part it like a curtain o’er a frame
peeling back a wrapper of my childhood
and then about me I beheld the same
dream-room was the only room that did remain

Photo by Seiya Maeda on Unsplash