When spring’s ghost joins me on the deck to watch
Gilt city lights click on across the bay,
Some downtown maid squeaks windows, wipes the splotch
Between us. Here, this quiet view. Soft clay
And pungent eucalyptus, thick with rain,
Exude their essence. Summer’s gloom unwinds,
A pane has shattered, and each rampant cane
Of luscious juicy blackberries reminds
My grief entwining August’s humid air.
A wedge of geese pries open autumn, herds
Fat purple clouds toward dusk above the glare
Of distant offices. Your murdered words
Of love on voicemail echo you were dead
Before you put that bullet through your head.

*****

Beth Houston writes: “Regarding the sonnet: This is one poem I’d prefer to let the reader chew on without me explaining anything. It does have some tricky time aspects…”

She adds: “I have announced the submission period for the next anthology on the Rhizome Press website. Included are updated guidelines and new emails for submissions and general mail (no longer gmail). Folks will have plenty of time to submit. I just hope I don’t get an avalanche at the last minute. But better loads of poems than not getting them. I’m eager for people to let their poet friends know. I’d love to get LOTS of submissions.

‘September’ was first published in Rat’s Ass Review.

Beth Houston (www.bethhouston.com) has taught writing (mostly creative writing) at ten universities and colleges in California and Florida and has worked as a writer and editor. She has published a couple hundred poems in dozens of literary journals. She writes free verse and formal poetry, mostly sonnets, and has published a novel, two nonfiction books, and six poetry books (out of print). She edits the Extreme formal poetry anthologies via one of her indie presses, Rhizome Press (www.rhizomepress.com).

Photo: “Formation” by Nature_Freak is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.