Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Frozen Hands

A silver coin hangs frozen in the sky
among the copper clouds that slowly fade
to daytime grey. A deadly dry-ice blade
inflames my lungs. The old year wouldn’t die
it’s holding on, like geese that will not fly
to summer breeding grounds. Events replayed
like someone’s ghastly pantomime charade
to fill this gap in time. But by and by—
elastic only stretches to a point
and cold makes rubber brittle. Snapping bands
will rebound, putting time back into joint
and moon and sun will spin like tumbling dice
across the sky. We’ll watch for moving hands
around the clock now still and cold as ice.

13 comments:

Dale said...

Oh! wonderful poem.

tumblewords said...

Oh, no. I'm feeling the envy again. Beautiful!!! Beautiful!!!

Alan said...

Too hot to touch!

sister AE said...

your sonnets always have great rhymes and this is no exception. and the images are chilling.

SweetTalkingGuy said...

So many images, this really speaks to me...

Jo said...

Beautiful images, great craft.

Christy said...

every word is beautiful
absolutely loved this!!!

paisley said...

this form definitely suits you....

Lisa said...

The imagery in your poems are always so lovely - very nice.

Linda said...

Keeping to the iambic pentameter is tough but you pulled it off and it seems so natural! Like everyone else, I also love the images!

Rick said...

Swung by for a preview~,:^)

Glad you're "coming around".

RM

SB said...

Ah, you know how to do this. And I like this one, very much.

Thank you -- and thanks for your comments & advice at Watermark.

Allyson said...

I'm reading this sonnet on a particularly apt (re: freezing cold!) day, which makes it all the more enjoyable.