Sonnet for the Third of August

(the day Wallace Stevens wrote a sonnet at his day job)

Today is Surreptitious Sonnet Day,
feast of St. Wallace in the poets’ church.
Writing on paper, I will not betray
my brief defection to the sharp-eyed search
of bosses and their minions. (I do NOT
trust the blonde secretary on my right).
To tell the truth, a drink would hit the spot
and set a rather dampened Muse alight
with ardor.  I’m supposed to do a graph
with curves of loss and profit, but inclined
to draw a smiley face and raise a laugh.
What if the bosses think I’ve lost my mind?
My life is dreary, and a small voice sings,
St. Wallace, raise me up on eagles’ wings.

Gail White is active in the Formalist Poetry movement. She is a contributing editor of Light Poetry Magazine and has had work in First Things and the Anglican Theological Review. Her book Asperity Street and chapbook Catechism can be found on Amazon. She lives in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana.

'Sonnet for the Third of August' have 2 comments

  1. October 4, 2021 @ 12:22 pm Cynthia Erlandson

    Both this idea, and it’s execution, are delightful!


  2. October 20, 2021 @ 5:03 pm David W Landrum

    Gail: Wonderful poem, very witty. I will always love Stevens for his lines in “Thirteen Ways”: It was evening all afternoon. / It was snowing and it was going to snow.” Now there, I tell myself, is a man who lived in the north. Thanks for the poem.


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