Tears of Honey
Sonnet #1: In heptameter and Shakespearean rhyme
A flock of statues, breathy with instinct, are hiding, bare. Near perfect silence. Sand flows, hands tick, and pass the hours Quick as they are loud. Time is trapped inside this hold, this lair; Sunless, vacant, void; the most important place for flowers. Crying out for pleasure, for love, howling “Doctor, Doctor!” Nefarious, warm in the ecstasy of a princess, Muzzle-down in the petals, a most vigilant proctor. Swollen pi...