White Sunday 101: cocoon

I want to see, when you emerge,
your wings unfold in morning light.
to touch you is my sacred urge,
to enter you in dovetail tight.
your chrysalis transcends the past,
you burst awake to claim my soul.
I am yours, cures for black die cast,
Pascal's wagers, a poet's roll.
bind with me and I am fit feast
for your passions and fashions' thirst,
ripped and stripped to a truth released
from blessing born of madness cursed,
fallen away, like the proud shroud
shed in this bed, my vows aloud.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I wrote this off an offhand comment I had written to my beloved in an email (even adding, at the time that I would have to revisit the line and write a poem from it). Her response to seeing this work was:
"Cocoon is one of the most beautiful poems of yours I have ever read. One of the most beautiful sonnets I have read in general."
And the woman is an accomplished poet and editor in her own right. Tingles.