Death
I hate you and the horse you rode in on.
I hate your black hat, your black boots, your cloak
darker than oblivion. Carrion
memories attend you, and I hate them—oak-
galled ink scribblings in the margins of your
book. I hate the pain you cut with a steel
quill across the faces I love, how you roar
in bone-silence, deeper and more surreal
than the bedrock ticking of clocks or time
itself. I hate how you invade this form
of love, this sonnet, twisting its pretzeled rhyme
to your own echoless ends: unsound, infirm.
I shall stare you down. I shall take the reins.
Pale horse, your rider walks away in chains.
Leslie Schultz
The photograph of the white swirl on the water was taken at the glacial pothole park at Taylor’s Falls on the St. Croix River, a bit north of here. The other photographs were taken in Savannah, Georgia.
LESLIE
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Thanks for your thoughtful comments, Mattie. I am thrilled to think you will spend a moment each day with the poems in April.
Love the opening line…. that pretty much got me onboard for the rest of the poem. Also an interesting description of death which certainly alludes us probably right until the end, and we can only guess that it might be pretty awful. Look forward to your daily blog and thank you for sharing!!!
A powerful expression. When I read this through the first time, I didn’t even hear the rhymes, only the flow of words and passion.
WOW!
Stella, sharing this month-long journey with you, seeing your fine daily poems–this has given me new strength. Thank you. Leslie
A powerful sonnet, Leslie.