Unconventional Love Sonnet #9
I know that in my voice is a world spinning
on an irregular axis, slightly off kilter
but weighted with four decades of language,
words accumulated as dust in a forgotten corner.
I know that in my touch are the shadows of myself,
strange echoes of all the lost boys and searching
men I have been, a silent crowd bearing witness
to the subtle evolution of the fingers on her skin.
What does she see in her eye of spirit? Who
is the man she has touched and held, gifted
with the seduction of lips, the mysterious promise?
I do not recognize myself with her. So long
I have sought the spectral woman, the one soul
who would know me and make me forget my name.
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