Sonnet XII

Not newly written, but worth a post, I think.

O Lovely, do not weep for me –
your salty tears will do nothing
for this poor boy’s heart and
you’ll build up only a well to

die in. This absence will not
be too long, my glorious girl,
and the miles will build
an intimacy like winter. I will

go, always facing the enemy,
heart always held in your
baker’s hands and glowing.

Fly the flag of our deep affection
over the fortifications in your soul
and tell them of our deep resolve.