My creative response to Berrigan's Sonnet 18. Tried to follow some of the rhymes and sentence structures, etc.
Dear Ezra, hello. It is 2:37 a.m.
Inside my room, air is thick with regret
In my head. Dreams of Grace Potter
At the Independent. The night we met.
Moon, it used to illuminate us two
Now it hangs and shines and mocks
In the city: my mistake is a shadow
Following. "Transcendence," you said.
About our moon. Reminded of Jeffrey Lewis
You clenched your fist over your heart
And made it hard to breathe. You know
Ezra, tonight, and every night, I can't
Listen to that song you wrote me.
It kills me. Now I'm dreading June
Your eyes will shine, no doubt, just
Not for me. At any rate, not soon.
Forsaken: our remorseful incandescent moon.