Sonnet Poem by Tony Towle

Checking off the list, I saw you
as you really were,
spiced, like a fist in my sleep,
finished, like the purr of a galley.

I went to the fish festival immediately;
the payments were due immediately,
for my final wish was irreproachable,
a factory of glue, as it were.

A few escaping liars under the counter;
on the table, thriving colonies of hardware.
Later the fires were certainly interesting,

assisting the driving wear of the clouds.
The rights are read and the people stop
to spread before their only functions.