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Imperfect Sonnet

Rating: 5.0
Imperfect Sonnet
by Michael R. Burch

A word before the light is doused: the night
is something wriggling through an unclean mind,
as rats creep through a tenement. And loss
is written cheaply with the moon's cracked gloss
like lipstick through the infinite, to show
love's pale yet sordid imprint on us. Go.
We have not learned love yet, except to cleave.
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Wednesday, January 22, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: despair,images,light,loss,lost love,love,moon,night,relationships,scream
Bernard F. Asuncion 23 January 2020
A well crafted poem that conveys a meaningful message..10+++
1 0 Reply
Michael Burch 23 January 2020
I'm glad you think so, Bernard, and thanks as always for taking the time to read and comment.
0 0 Reply

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