Domestic Sonnet II
From The Familiarity
Domestic Sonnet II
Her body wakes and with it a hum.
I sit, elbow–knee bent
writing against paper grain
stink bugs emerge this time of year
in tawny marmorations
leaving romance knuckle balling.
If I craft a sonnet will persistent
chemicals end with a simple refrain?
There’s a poem by Brautigan
about a catfish he loved so dear
moving blind at the bottom of a mere
and if I were to live life in stink bug forms
I’d stay in walls releasing small alarms
and your loneliness would eventually fade.
I love how this characterizes the noise of distractions and obstacles, but also how through these things, you persist in being aware, in being awake, to what is real, beautiful, and alive. What loneliness there is becomes just that much lesser. Perhaps these things amplify all the more the better; they tune you into awareness, and out of that awareness, connection stays.
Great work yet again!
Is that Brautigan as in Richard Brautigan of Trout Fishing in America fame? I read that a few years back and loved it. Weird. Odd. A little bit zany. The quirky stuff that I often find appealing!
Love the last line here: and your loneliness would eventually fade.