“Sonnet For Death”
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath;
Old Spice and pillows where he laid his head.
She covers up her face with him instead;
a scent familiar before his death.
She slides her hands along the silken cloth.
She winces: wedded bed sheets like that spread
into the layered box where now he beds.
She wanders like a kind of muted moth.
And so he sleeps in white and huddled hutch
and blanketed in memories, she hears
“The soul is kept alive by human touch
and I will never leave you, I’ll be near.”
Imaginary arms embrace as such
so death is not a loathsome thing to fear.
(forced to use “breath” as the rhyme, I found there is only one
legitimate rhyme for “breath” and that is “death”. Form for
this poem referred to as a “George Gordon/Lord Byron” Italian sonnet. Rhyme
scheme: abba;abba; cdcdcd.) Iambic Pentameter.