Stubby Sag Harbor Sonnet

The petty interference with light occasioned by shade.
See the shade for what it is.
Sycamore that shadows my movements.
The locals drive to work by way of the water.
To make sure it is still there, a confirmation of their being.
Windows down, a sandwich at noon, a newspaper.
I have nothing to add to the nature of zero and one.
The click of a tiny chisel on jade once organized centuries.
Now we lack the silence that framed true words.
There will be stories lost to a roar of falling bricks.
There will be poems that swallowed hard.
They will use scorned prepositions and adjectives.
They will say nothing more than themselves.
They will return to the fold the fold's work.

Marvin Bell
Third Coast
Fall 2005

Copyright © 2005 by Third Coast
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

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