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  • By Daniel Platt


A half-life passes, others come and go,

But no clairvoyant eyes can find the day

When what we’ve shared will finally ebb away.

Our palette lacks the muted indigo,

A shade to quench the incandescent glow—

Our cataclysm’s radiant decay—

And time provides no twilight to allay

The swelter as the burnished memories flow.

Our sin was unoriginal, and yet

There was a bonding no one could explain,

A synthesis of sorrow and a sweet

Combustion only passion could beget,

And if I could embrace it once again

I’d stop my clocks and call the world complete.

Daniel Platt is a translator, poet and musician who resides in Los Angeles. More of his translations and original poems can be found here.


Aug 28, 2021

This is one of the finest contemporary sonnets I've read, and I dare say one of the finest of any I've read. It is an oft-used form treating an oft-used subject (evanescence), but it expresses itself in a very original voice. I particularly like the muted conceit of nuclear fission("half-life," "radiant decay," "combustion," "stop my clocks"). This was a pleasure to read and I hope the poet produces many more like it.


Aug 27, 2021

An extremely fine Petrarchan sonnet. You simply can't beat the old forms. The ancients knew what they were up to. A wonderful choice of words.

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