Now it's a matter of public record

A Petrarchan Sonnet

A friend of mine and I were reminiscing about our university days. We started to wonder about what had happened to some our old friends and, out of curiosity googled a few. In a google search on one particular ex-lover of mine, up popped his mugshot. He was arrested for possession of photos of child pornography and is now in prison. I was in shock and knew I had to write about it to purge these feelings from my mind.

I began to write. I couldn’t help but vomit these feelings out on to the page. The thoughts were tornados swirling around in my head and woke me up at 1:37 am, 2:45 am, 4:01 am. At each time I got out of bed, sat on the toilet and poured out the words into a notebook that I keep at my bedside. The intensity of my feelings towards this man needed containing, in order to protect myself from a spiralling free fall of emotions that would end with my falling into the abyss of disgust, indifference and a disturbing sympathy for his family, whom I don’t really know. I wanted to purge myself of him and these thoughts, put them in a box, lock it and toss it down a volcano to burn up entirely.

My daughter, Georgia, a wonderful poet in her own right, suggested I choose a Petrarchan sonnet. The poet adheres to its strict form, which I found comforting, like swaddling a baby to calm her down. I could not flail around anymore.

A Petrarchan sonnet is divided in two parts:

1. part one, the problem/issue is addressed.

2. there is a volta - a shift or change in thought, emotion, or perspective within a poem in line 9.

3. the second part, occurs in lines 10-14, a solution or resolution

The first half is a love poem, which sonnets are, and the second half describes a stark and jarring reality of who he is now and what happened to him. The rhyme scheme is ABBAABBACDECDE.

Writing this sonnet felt more like the work a sculptor does to liberate the sculptor inside the stone. I kept changing angles and view of how I saw him and what he has done. I chipped away at a line or two, then moved on to polish or cajole the rhymes to emerge. I changed the title and the focus and probably wrote about 7 different versions of the final sonnet. I kept chipping away and chipping away and she kept chipping away at me, until finally we were both exhausted and done. But she, this sonnet, is beautiful and expansive and terrifying and claustrophobic, all at the same time. I can now let her and his memory go and move on. His ship has burnt down and lay in ash and sand, but mine is sailing free on the open seas.

Hope this makes sense. You can also listen to my reading of the sonnet if you prefer. Feel free to ask me questions in the comments, if you have any. ENJOY!

Now it’s a matter of public record ©Dana Allen

My eyes are closed, I see you now with me

Those luscious limbs that wrapped around my waist

The supple fingers that explored and traced

My lips, my breasts, The fire that sets me free

It scorched my heart down to the third degree

Your raucous laugh, your cheeky grin, that taste

Of peppermint, kisses stolen in haste

I’ve lost my head, It’s floated out to sea

Now it’s a matter of public record

Despite the storm inside, you placed your bet

The waves broke hard and hauled you far from land

That ship you captained has become unmoored

You take their innocence with no regret

The law takes you, Your ship’s in ash and sand

**Thank you so much to my

Write Hearted

friends

Linda Kaun

,

Kathy Ayers

,

Larry Urish

and

Rick Lewis

(our fearless leader) for their invaluable comments and encouragments.**