The Revels

"Sonnet #8; in alternating pentameter and hexameter, and Shakespearean rhyme"

It’s funny, the way that little things fall,
Drops of crystal rain split in haphazard fashion-
All things are fragile, no matter how small.
A glass of wine shattering in rough hewn passion…

Lover’s limbs tangle, glittering shards dance
On a ruby ocean. A river of scarlet
Runs as hot blood frozen, lost to the trance,
Hypnosis of skin… So much more than a harlot.

Braids of blossoms drift, corsets held aloft.
Unending symmetry and brightened agony
Light the hall sharply, with all that is soft;
Waiting in the wings is screaming cacophony.

Pistil, petal, voice, emerge aquiver,
Silvered by Persephone and lunar sliver.