Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #227
A Man Signing the Alphabet
by Belinda Roddie
A man signing the alphabet was out
in the cold with a cellphone to his ear,
and though he did not speak, I heard a shout
erupt from inside the café. "I'm here!"
the hidden cried. "I'm really here! I can't
believe it!" And the coffee served was old,
and the cookies were baked and left at a slant,
and once bit, they were hot. A patch of mold -
or, rather, hair - grew from the signer's head,
and once he got to "Z," a small grin grew
into a smirk. "I wish that I was dead!"
screamed the hidden, and it was then I knew
that my society had turned to dust,
and sight and sound had both begun to rust.
by Belinda Roddie
A man signing the alphabet was out
in the cold with a cellphone to his ear,
and though he did not speak, I heard a shout
erupt from inside the café. "I'm here!"
the hidden cried. "I'm really here! I can't
believe it!" And the coffee served was old,
and the cookies were baked and left at a slant,
and once bit, they were hot. A patch of mold -
or, rather, hair - grew from the signer's head,
and once he got to "Z," a small grin grew
into a smirk. "I wish that I was dead!"
screamed the hidden, and it was then I knew
that my society had turned to dust,
and sight and sound had both begun to rust.
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