Every Pill A Sonnet

by | Jul 18, 2021 | Meg Tuite July Day 2

I accidentally posted without being logged in. I noticed a typo or two anyway, so please read this version. Thanks!

I see you, vagabond, bird of passage, rolling in wanderlust, I hear the trumpet sound of longing crash into a siege of hourglasses, together we are a black and white film colorized to suit a wider audience, we are a Do Not Disturb sign cloud-written in the wan, desperate sky; we could be pierced yellow yolks creeping across a frying pan, we could be unsuspecting sparrows flying into sliding glass doors, though how could I ever compare you to a summer’s day? you, who stripped me of a transparent veneer, you who made me immortal then fled, leaving me to bleed out like the red sun melting in the Monterey horizon, but I still see you, in simple things, a glass of water, a wet ring left on the countertop, when I close my eyes, cancer may kill you but loneliness takes your life.

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