Well, I predicted this, so I have at least the satisfaction of being right. Really the minute I put the closing line from Sonnet III at the top of the new page I understood that I was in serious trouble. But while this poem is a disappointment, I promise that I was not just phoning it in. I spent hours on this piece of shit. I wrote 3 completely separate (and completely trash) drafts. This final version came together late Wednesday and after a few tweaks last night (and a few more this morning), I have accepted that it is sadly the best I can do. Oh well. We're writing 15 sonnets in 15 weeks here. They can't all be aces. (Remember the "bearded mussel"? Happier times.)
Anyway, it at least picks up some steam in the third quatrain and I'm pretty confident the closing couplet can propel me into a satisfying Sonnet V. We shall see.
I’d forsake heaven for this hell I find you in,
forgo the castle for this scavenged nest
of grit and sand. I’ll claim this ruin
and the dark rot of your breath at my breast.
You are an animal and taste like one,
like death and musk and the sour mash of sex.
Press into me with the same cusped talons
that claw through earth and skin. I’ll lick the flecks
of flesh and mud from each tapering tip,
hold one point and then the next in my lips.
What have you punctured? What have you sliced and split?
Will I be pierced and plundered, rent and ripped?
Oh love, I know this is dangerous bliss
but I am drunk on the wreck of your kiss.
If you want to pick up from the beginning, the crown starts here.