Letter to a Diane Seuss sonnet
~ a bouts-rimé sonnet, after page 89 of frank: sonnets
Dear sonnet, I am borrowing just this once
your end words. Remember how even oxblood
would icicle in that chemo room (though
Phoenix summer waited outside to sweat-slick our hair
when we exited the elevator)? Which nurse rocked
the AC in that third-floor room of dripping bags? My
gawd. Was it intentional? I needed antifreeze,
not a thin blanket. I shivered like
I was terrified. Flesh rippling into indigo
goosebumps. A xylophone of bones, bunch
of ribs clattering. When C saw me shaking, he opened
his arms and wrapped his entire being around me. I felt it
warm me from the inside. No words. Silent tongue.
He just held me. Torso, shoulders, heart, palm, thumb.
*
Susan Vespoli is a poet from Phoenix, AZ who needs to write to stay sane. Her poems have appeared in ONE ART, Anti-Heroin Chic, New Verse News, Rattle, Gyroscope Review, and other cool spots. She teaches Wild Writing inspired classes on writers.com and 27powers.org and is the author of four poetry collections. Susan Vespoli – Author, Poet
