Gapped Sonnet

Between the blinds Past the coded locks

Past the slanted gold bars of the day

Smelling of all-night salt rain on the docks

Of grief Of birth Of bergamot Of May



In the wind that lifts the harbor litter

Wet against my fingers in a dream

Salvaging among the tideline's bitter

gleanings Generous Exigent Lush and lean



Your voice A tune I thought I had forgotten

The taste of cold July brook on my tongue

A fire built on thick ice in the winter

The place where lost and salvaged meet and fit

The cadences a class in grief is taught in

The sound when frozen rivers start to run

by Suzanne Gardinier