Sonnet Poem by Rick Barot

Would lightning do? Would a new watch?
There aren't going to be any plums, red
ones or green ones. My white shirt is dirty.
The sunflower is done with flowering.
In each picture, you look like a penguin,
impossible not to like. More and more
I feel like a church, empty as a kettle
but larger. Would a river do? Would it go
backwards if asked? If I lost you once,
I can lose you twice. My hand should be
put in a cast. I should stop making
artichokes out of words. The weather
is ready to scold the house. The sunflower
has died. The last pencil has been eaten.