The Poetry Project

Trevor Ketner

[Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul]

cup neon fist—hornier women shatter pool
with gore, moonlight, a moon—fir scent wedded
to clean fur / holy cove—rye, nettle, oats—me,
perfect as food / soot—i pondfoam undies—
her strapon (horned, hilted)—oh cute male-me
die (a sharp gouge, a chasm)—tusk worn tender—
sweetish dusts (clove, cinnamon)—i warren / steer—
ovalgendered (a palace / coop)—flimsinesses
of waspish thorn—i, mostly wet, dim the tomb—
butch tells me i’m a dyke (fresh sobs)—vase (no odor,
no thin, lily rot)—chemise oversimplifies hip,
reduces to lethal, blue lisp (sewless)—hind shrine
on the mountain—hunt hymns filth, adds it
to nectar, herb stems, pansyfrost, swanbend, stars.

[To me, fair friend, you never can be old,]

foam endured—veil cronebone, fray it—
sew iffy hetero eyesore—dye you raw—
systematic hurt (shoe welt bruise)—cruelly nosed
fur—a hot mesh dress (overt peek)—horseform theism
(manebeauty in stone)—throw out urge (slurped lust,
feverish in openness)—choose: eat ass
or serpent—i jeer / spur / fable him (hunter hunted)—
we: sheer—we: soft ruin—satisfying, i cherryache—
that unladylike body / heat—hide aa
from old friends—given cue i eat peach, pear,
yellowest wheat—sirs moon (shine, shut, thud)—
honeyed cavity / maiden dome—bite he-name,
hew it—oh feather—oh fragrance—oh fur—i’d sub,
obey stud—weary, summon ewe, rub deer’s ear.

Note on the Construction of the Text

These poems, what I call “divinations,” were created using an online anagramming tool and the source text of Shakespeare’s sonnets. The first line of the corresponding Shakespearean sonnet is borrowed as the title for each divination. The rule I set for myself was that I had to anagram line-by-line, so each line of the divination has the same letters in a one-to-one relationship as the corresponding line in the Shakespearean sonnet.

Issue 18