Gapped Sonnet

Suzanne Gardinier

Between the blinds Past the coded locks
Past the slanted gold bars of the day
Smelling of all-night salt rain on the docks
Of grief Of birth Of bergamot Of May

In the wind that lifts the harbor litter
Wet against my fingers in a dream
Salvaging among the tideline's bitter
gleanings Generous Exigent Lush and lean

Your voice A tune I thought I had forgotten
The taste of cold July brook on my tongue
A fire built on thick ice in the winter
The place where lost and salvaged meet and fit
The cadences a class in grief is taught in
The sound when frozen rivers start to run

About this poem:
"I wrote this in a spring Sarah Lawrence class about the sonnet, a form I love that always makes me say what I don't know I know. The punctuation is left out in my usual attempt to make the sound of a translation, from some other language I almost understand."

Suzanne Gardinier