This is, I think, the last

…of the Abigail sonnets. If I leave out Superstition, or make it the cd extra, I have fourteen
which is the right length for a sonnet cycle it always seems to me – just long enough to be performed at a sitting, and appropriate because it’s the same number as the lines of each poem.

And of course, having begun with one of the last poems, three weeks ago, I am ending with the one that comes first.

Oxford Prologue/Kensington 1974

We meet our friends before they are our friends
Have a vague sense of who it is we’ve met
And sometimes that is where acquaintance ends
And half of what we learned, we then forget

Except when chance means that we meet again
Then ‘part-Italian, mad, Untidy. Hot.’
or ‘tall, thin, queer’ are pulled out of the brain.
We met in Kensington. Knew it was not

The first time. She had had the room between
Jean Flood and Sue. We sometimes met at tea.
No sense the few words spoken might have been
Important, so they faded. Memory

begins there, on the street. The story starts
and does not end until we break your hearts.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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7 Responses to This is, I think, the last

  1. maellenkleth says:

    Thank you, Roz! These have been, collectively, a very good read.

    Regards,

    Elane-from-the-Colonies

  2. ffutures says:

    Pending a collection, could you post a list of links in the order you think they should be read in?

  3. i_kender says:

    Thank you for this… I think you’ve been on fire with these sonnets, possibly the best thing you’ve written. Chapbook or commercially, they need to be published 🙂

  4. tsubaki_ny says:

    These were all so beautiful and evocative.

  5. These were all wonderful and moving. Collectively a brilliant tribute.

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