Sonnet: The solemnity of a grey January sky...

The solemnity of a grey January sky
ricochets back to me, as rain spatters
the river, all the not-redeemable things
about the life we had together, sloped
sometimes into ecstasy, creeping up
horror on the other side of things- I
threw out the tapes of our conversations
I made, where you spelled out what I
already knew- you were ready to die
then, never having been the "heavy dyke"
you wanted to be, partly because you
weren't only a dyke- you were my
lover. The sky flattens out on matter
changing form, whiteness, in script, out of script.