Wind Sonnet

by Anonymous

Spring 2022

The aspens twitch, electroshocked, and twist

in coked-up gusts—frenetic, finite. Touch

me, world! Let’s fill me to the gills—let’s kiss

me, leper moon, let’s kiss me numb and much, 

much more. I wait, an endless patience here,

a silver pond, a rag still sopping bright

desire. At last, I have begun to fear 

an end to all this. I’ve begun to fight

my mind for signs. I want to live 

this life I always loved but never had 

the appetite for. Love me, world, please give 

mine back. I have labored too much to add

a meaning to your sick and windstruck leaves. 

If I am dead, it must be you that grieves.