Humulus Lupulus

From the 2022 collection "Sonnets for the Comfortably Uncomfortable"

By Sara WynnPublished 14 days ago • 1 min read

The purple poppy drinks the sunlight in

quite like her counterpart the pretty hop;

we all begin to feel alright again,

perennials ascending vacant lots.

Right on the edge of twilight, citrus scents

appease desire with few sweetened malt;

the perfect brew to help me to forget,

to help me to remember it's your fault.

Despite your dizzy drunken pleasantries,

perhaps it's time to start owning this.

My every day in total agony;

it must reverberate. You must know it.

God willing, after a bouquet or two,

perhaps this love of mine will die in tune.

"No one knows where the edge of the knife is,

and no one knows what intelligent life is."

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