Between Before After (Sonnet 800)

It’s not merely a numbers game, and yet
It is: we count up syllables, each line,
Each iamb, trochee, spondee, how the spine
Is in the form — it is the form. Forget
Nothing. Remember how each word is set
Between, before, or after, serves as twine
To tie loose ends together, serpentine
Knots and regrets. We understand regret.

There are eight hundred sonnets, counting this,
Eight hundred ways to say, or not to say,
Those thoughts arriving in some disarray
But ending in a functional armistice
Between before and after, with a kiss,
Both keeping time, and keeping time at bay.