Different Line Ends Sonnet
Squares Tumble dully in a dim box room.
I dreamt I cut fresh fish again last night
in ribbons I laced on an amber loom
and cooked until the bright dyes faded light
then wove dust patterns thickly through this tomb.
Sounds rumble muffled while the clock ticks tight.
Time turns this beltwork like a rolling stream.
I could be casting out, living my dream
instead of clocking in and choking on
the bones of someone else's steelhead dawn.
A foreman walks a line to pay a debt.
hard soul time held like bright life in a net
webbed, floating, filling. I put down my broom
tear out my hook, escape without a fight.
Copyright 1996 Beridha.
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