two sonnet 73’s (NY Times Magazine)

 

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73

Kim Addonizio

 

it’s that time of year ice in the trees
snow like dirty light piled beside the trash bags
city gardens behind chain-link fences
mired in white except for an occasional rat

Read rest of poem 

Matthew Zapruder writes: “This poem is a loose, contemporary sonnet in the spirit of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73.”

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Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold

William Shakespeare 
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

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