number 38: “A Wednesday, Six Years Later”

Last year around this time, I wrote this sonnet as a part of an ongoing project in which I wrote a sonnet every day for however long I felt like writing poems. In the end, 29 sonnets were written. Human behavior is such an interesting thing.

The events of September eleventh two-thousand one eneded up haunting us for much longer than any poetry project could have convinced us it would. But it’s still fresh. Things are still happening. The air is still thick with elecricity.

Love, jocelyn

PS: The air, being in and of itself capable of withstanding and baring electricity, is fresh and cool today. Thank you for reading.