Guilty in Silence

By Bud Koenemund

For Arthur H. Monigold

He told me not to tell, and I didn’t.

His own grandson – once untainted; trusting –

Protecting a monster whose sin imprints

The soul, poisoning innocence with lust;

Breeding this maelstrom raging through my brain:

Lightning strikes of emotion – wrath and shame;

Hate and self-doubt – a tempest unconstrained.

Yet, misery lurks darkest in that blame

I carry for silence. An accomplice

To evil; remaining mute as he forced

This curse upon others; rending solace

From family: a guilt beyond recourse.

   Though my flesh bears no scar, memory steals

   Peace with injuries time will never heal.

Why I Can Not Write a Sonnet for You

For Catherine Harren Barufaldi

Ms. Barufaldi, with humble regrets,
I am unable to grant your request
For a sonnet that my own hand begets,
As my words rarely flow at mere behest;
Also, your marital status precludes
The penning of romantic verse or rhyme,
Which – as you know – a true sonnet includes,
This threat’s to turn the poet into mime;
Further, creating for a married Muse
Could lead to a dangerous consequence,
Like Writer assault or Poet abuse,
Leaving this scrivener beat out of sense.
Please, feel free to make future inquiry,
At present, though, I must dodge injury.