Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

Sonnet #188

The day I knew I could never go home

Again, never again, was with a cookie
I knew in childhood, a humble cookie
And the memory of the cookie's grown
a mythology in my desire, a craving
irrational, at best, an addiction to it
Such that I must never permit
the thing to enter the house, and staving
off this desire is a fact I know as truth
If I give in and taste the cookie,
It is not so great in my mouth
As it is as a memory of the cookie
The taste is nothing but a dream
Old rooms in lost houses larger than seem

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