Sonnet 7

by Thomas Davis

We drove to Mesa Verde as the San Juan’s rose
in morning sunlight green, majestic, soaring.
I’ve met this girl, he said. He rubbed his nose
as if he had a pounding headache starting.
But I don’t know, he said. I feel like smiling
whenever thoughts about her make my day.
She’s with another guy she’s basically supporting.
He sighs. Sometimes I think she’ll walk my way,
but then she hesitates, he says. I sway
as if I’m in a storm that generates
emotions strong enough to make me flay
myself as who I am deteriorates.

Love isn’t what it really ought to be,
he said. The flower should accept the bee.

4 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis

4 responses to “Sonnet 7

  1. awesome ! specially loved the last stanza

  2. “I’ve met this girl, he said. He rubbed his nose”

    What a perfect image.

  3. Lovely imagery! I can feel his hesitancy and his powerlessness. The last two lines just take it to a whole new level. Thank you!

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