spring2015

Charlie BaylisWinter Sonnets (continued)Into another country, and do it there,We play in another house, what should we fear?John DonneThis is the winter of our love, Federica. This is snowTime in an hourglass, time the chime of the bells wintering white,Time with a salt cube the sugar falling from the stars’ arms,The white flames of nature’s fire, Federica, Alfalfa on the moon.The glass he holds is empty. The glass that I hold is full.Swan suns, the cyst of Saturn. No moons. No satellites. None.Stupid spays of chemical rain, love-lights. The drinker at black heathValentines, the glass he holds is empty, FdR, the glass I hold is full.But I will not disturb the flutter of your dreams with Nazi lampshades and PlutoBecause even if I don’t love you, Federica, even if I don’t really careI’ll still breathe the river’s rolling gold; laureate, rolling the gold folds of your skin’s gildIn every season split like a star on an axis, Federica, spinning only for you.Spinning red letters danced on by children in the sun. Wincing on my gravestoneLet me introduce you to the winter rain, Federica: there is none46