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Whiplashed Sonnet

Richard Vallance
Having sauntered down and
up such sand-swept strands,
Having whiplash,
whiplash winds whip at my wrists,
Having rustlers,
rains swirl whistlers bat by hands,
Having, before this black
beach, been blind before, before
some storm, sidewinding,
blast my feet, what twists
my mindscapes now to
come upon such scenes once more,
once more? Hadn't one
had enough of this before?

Hadn't I had
enough of this before? Enough of this!
Hadn't you had
enough of this before? "Get out, get
out!" as she did stürm from door
to door, that latch hiss,
with what a quarrel, serpent-
time timed to sinuous sweat
and it would beat the
brow, and bit its sting, a ring,
that could not cease to ring
between the ears, arrears
accumulated, venomous
debtors, screaming at our ears.

Copyright © Richard Vallance, 2001.
All rights reserved.