Treading Water

photo by Liz Stewart

A sonnet by Peter Stern

Listen, and soft waves of glass tear pink flesh,

A diluted garland wishes to fly,

She holds idle as pain’d salty tears thresh,

They fill her ears: spirits ask her to die.


A maiden travels down a screaming brook,

Her crack’d palms reach for a blue salvation,

Of our hearts, sin ‘twas the only shard she took,

Must we o’er look the hid’n thorns in her skin?


Open lips as pink as dianthuses,

A purity envied by Earth, herself,

Eyelashes corrupt’d by dewdrops like his,

Thin fingers lie her on a muddy shelf.


Look aslant a brook, there leans a willow,

Filter down, resides the virgin cargo.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s