The Sonnets
of Christopher Whitby
Violation

I am all the daughters of my father’s house,
And all the brothers too: and yet I know not.
Twelfth Night, II, iv

What don't I know? Not just if Seb still lives –
Though how we need a body, warm or cold.
It's what I am and may become that gives
me sleepless nights. Shall I grow old
in this disguise, androgenized by time,
an exile from my sex as well as home?
Or will some carpe diem act mean I'm
condemned to states yet further from my own?
He favours me. They whisper it's not chance,
but in what way? Is he too much the man?
Her beauty's stunning. Barring her advance
is hard. Why not take what and where I can?
I'm shipwrecked twice, more helpless than before,
Afraid to drown, afraid to reach the shore.
Cinders

To tell the truth, I tried quite hard to kick
The other one off, as I bolted free
To save my shame. I made it in the nick
Of time, but, oh, my feet were killing me!
Glass slippers...for a ball! Who dreamed up that?
A long walk back as well, always in doubt
I'd beat the sisters home. Yet there I sat,
As if nothing had happened while they'd been out.
And then at last he came. You know the rest.
Except you don't. I have exchanged one cage
For another. Bigger, yes, but now I wage
Small wars with courtiers over each request
And bound by protocol against my will,
I weep to find myself in service still.
March 2007
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