Karen Volkman

Sonnet

As the dream a consciousness adored
beached its semblance in a mist, a mere
oval emulates a circle, austere
lack, swart spiral. Opacities are poured

in midnight ciphers, alembic of the shored
remnant, naufrage the hours cannot steer
north of founder, and ruin is the clear
attar on the tongue, trajectory of toward

blue as blindness in the ocean’s stare.
Oh the minus when it runed and roared.
Lucid cumulus (the wind’s white hair)

indignant plural of the single word,
rages, retrogrades. Omega air
all formless fire, a body of the lord.

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