Monday, May 27, 2013

Spring Sonnet 2: Evening Bag Perched on a Condemned Pile

An evening bag perched on a condemned pile
Carelessly flings me back to quondam
life. Below, my old stuffs’ siren calls beguile
my sentiments to secure their freedom.
"You loved me once; I served you well!" they chant
begging for grace; but it’s my past that pleads
absolution from a deceived present
and seeks to amend unknowing misdeeds.
That bag was not a bag but a passport
To anywhere else. But now the burden
Of continuing on encumbered thwarts
My whispered prayer for transfiguration.
My pile evicted; my amen disguised
As giving, and so my ghosts are exorcised.

-Abigail Ramsay

1 comment:

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