Sonnet, 5/14/08

The strong honk of the morning gulls
sounds its sober call. The waves abound
with wealth to be found, and so the day's competition
has begun. I listen from my pillow
and imagine I am not alone.
Lying on my right arm, I can feel
breasts that seem much too grown. (Breasts
that fostered life for more than one full year,
now unfamiliar reminders of a child
also not known.) If I should hear the phone,
I'd ignore its electronic cries. If you
should knock on my door, I would hardly hear
or just pretend in my mourning haze
that nobody I knew was standing there.

em