“The common end of all narrative, nay of all, Poems is to convert a series into a Whole... to make... a circular motion — the snake with its Tail in its Mouth.” — Samuel Coleridge, Collected Letters IV (1815)
Accomplicing that plot device, surprise,
the day shone royal blue. Our Sunday walk
assumed pedestrian guise until her lies
constricted near Unending Books. In mock-
submissive tone, she sighed: “Please let me be
right here, outside our favorite used-book store.
It’s where we met. All circles close a door.
That’s symmetry — the poetess in me.”
I pondered the reflection of my self
on Austen, half-price-off; then for a song,
the poets, ancient children, on a shelf
set up on crumpled velvet. All along,
this princess had availed a serpent-guide.
I was the frog to her formaldehyde.
Norman Ball enjoys writing sonnets. All of a sudden he has three books due out this year: How Can We Make Your Power More Comfortable? (Del Sol Press), Frantic Force (Petroglyph Books) and A Signature Advance (Diminuendo Press).
