Private: January Sonnet: a poem by Charles Tomlinson

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Fog has wadded a dirty white
 Into all outlets from the eye. I stand
At an opening over unfenced land
 On which sheer cloud has settled.
To the white obstruction you can see no end
 Where yesterday a clear way through
Drew the gaze that now must keep its distance
 As both fog and night prepare
To pour into each other. Feel
 For the solidarity of walls, house-end angles now
And the paneled door yielding to your key,
 In this moment of retreat towards the glow
And the slit of light where curtain and window meet
 (Stretching towards each other) at mid-window.

—Charles Tomlinson, The Hudson Review, Volume LIX, Number 4, Winter 2007

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