Ever since completing my 155 sonnet cycle five years ago, and in between writing Helix Folt and more recently The Wokeiad, I've been accumulating a further fairly random collection of verse under the heading of "Odes, Epigrams, and Further Sonnets". I was scrolling through this collection this morning, and it struck me that the following number was appropriate to the season:-
XVIII
Upon a Winter Strop & a Coupling
This season, verse reduced to canting list,
res cogitans rootless, ephemeral,
all focussed definition’s vaguest gist,
grey tone, and utterly decemberal.
Astonishing, the corner being but turned,
how this cobwebbing, close and fretful mist,
through which no sun excoriating burned,
is swift dispelled by solstice flip or twist.
Nox noxious was, therefore say “fiat lux!”
Speak now renewal’s truth, in wan cliché,
how animal awakes and, squealing, fucks,
yet afterwards is sad tho’ woman’s gay.
When mantis with her praise his head devours
his cadaver’s in spasm for some hours.
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