The Melancholy of the Sonneteer

We are so used

to going from                                      

world to world,                                                          

awake an instant

from a ruined dream—                                               

its far-off ardor

cannot long                                         

endure—that we think                                   

nothing of what                                              

time might mean.                                

We gamble with it,

fractured in our visions                       

and drunken rambles                                      

that soon throb by noon;                    

sun’s blotches vanish                                      

and upset decisions.

Each fantasy quakes,

Atlantis

in its doom, the head sent

spinning like a weather vane—

our reckoning is tallied

by a music box

as if a token in some

fleeting game…

As snow would blind,

as heat makes sense elusive,

and quick as any light

might flicker out, one

word destroys us

from a lover’s mouth.

Will Cordeiro has recent work appearing or forthcoming in Cimarron Review, The Cincinnati Review, DIAGRAM, Salamander, Sycamore Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, The Threepenny Review, Typehouse and elsewhere. Will co-edits Eggtooth Editions and currently lives in Guadalajara, Mexico.