Sonnet 13
(for Euphorbia)

A power outage killed the net tonight
And left me with an unencumbered mind
So focused on Euphorbia's behind
Its brilliance making pale all other light
That would drive verse without its radiance.
No other muse is so imperious
That by mere mem'ry makes delirious
The mental map of all its gradients.
The thong ensconced between those hemispheres
Knows not how oft-examined is its weave
By such as I who've raveled up the sleave
Of care and to these hummocks lent his fears.
I sit in darkness made by circumstance
And wish I could see Phorbie's bootydance.