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An Imitation of Shakespeare’s Sonnet No. 18
Shall I compare thee to a slack-jawed moose?
A tundra beast whose brain conceives no law
beyond the skull’s dimensions, despite loose
nobility and tawny hide scraped raw
in dashes through a wilderness our eyes
alone have seen. Those eyes protest the knife
dissevering your torso from what lies
beneath, but dignity well known in life
will fail to save you from a death now spent
adorning brick above my fire and logs.
A creature bred for vigor never meant
to hang immobile over sleeping dogs;
but brief and dashing lives lived through the skin,
are better lives than that of those who win.
This sonnet began as a comment on the differences between those who experience life
intuitively and those who experience it physically, and then a moose got involved,
and now I think it's more about how short, full lives are better than long, dusty ones. I tried to model it on Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 18.