Poem-A-Day: Day 127

Sonnet #45 (Faulty Tower Deconstructed)

Some faulty tower deemed to self-destruct
is fallen dead upon the filthy ground
before it had a chance to deconstruct,
yet hovers still, a shambled structure bound
by tragedy to never fall, and all
ways stand crippled, never looking broken,
but somehow captured deep within the thrall
of some shadow casting lights and spoken
nothings; spoken contextualized hands
reaching up from a grassy covered knoll
to mimic faulty tower’s mocking stands,
and bring it back to tragedy’s control.
 The tower shrugs and looks to waiting gates
 that call for nothing more that he creates.