This is the crown of sonnets I wrote for Every Heaven: The Tree of Life. Patricia Livingston, made a child again, is waiting for a wedding to begin in which she is the flowergirl. She explores New Eden which strangely resembles the backyard of her childhood home and has discovered that touching things brings back to her images of Heaven as she saw it on earth, experiences of true joy, the memories God keeps. In this sonnet crown, she touches the tire swing in her backyard.
A crown of sonnets, or corona, is a sequence of sonnets linked together by the repitition of the last line of a preceding sonnet as the first line of the succeeding one. A sonnet redouble, or heroic crown consists of fourteen sonnets of the above structure, with a last sonnet, the fifteenth composed from all of the first lines linked together. I've tried to follow this structure, though very loosely.
Swing Crown
I’m glad too ya I got that Adam good
I got it so be quiet look John look
it IS my swing from back before Ma took
it to the dump let’s go let’s go come would
you now before the whole blessed neighborhood
piles on it and it breaks just like it broke
back when us six kids on together shook
the Swing Branch loose and in all likelihood
no no it won’t I won’t let it again
so hurry let’s go John you are too much
you turtle move you are so and and such
a slow-poke just like Ruthie said a pain
o nuts my stupid flowergirl dress’ll stain
Ma said no don’t but I’d just like one touch
* * *
Ma says don’t I know how kids like a touch
keep touchin’ my tools I will tie your hands
Ma threatens weakly turns to her car bends
low where a jack is under it to clutch
and crank until a wheel lifts on this crutch
grabs whirl the wrench at hub spins ping and sends
lug ping nuts yank whirl sends ping turns pretends
Pat’s nose is a lug as Pat wipes smears a smutch
she sees of black on her Ma’s face and pinch
feels steel enclose her nose inside the wrench
you’re my nut O ping five thick stumps
of steel are free and Beth stands up hip-bumps
ba-poom the tire from its old home it jumps
from where its tready life was smooth and a cinch
* * *
from where its steady life was a cinch and smooth
Ma bounces the wreath of black phoom-fully whee
and toom-toom dribbles ha toom new and free
bounce feint then to the hoop NBA sleuth
through watch out Jack Timothy Ruth
who fidget on the driveway tentatively
Ma pushes through bad D I’m open see
and mimes a shot two points yah tell the truth
kiddos Ma says you tell no ifs ands buts
where do the good tires go after their ruts
are run to journey’s end the kids’ mouths grope
no eyes wide um huh you dunno don’t mope
the tire swirls down Ma wipes her cheek and smuts
it wider kids’ll give no answer nope
* * *
IT’S why’d her riddle get no answer NOPE
Ma chokes way low a crow bar bends to club
a stab of thick screwdriver where the hub
meets black lips pop and hits pop stabs pop
pries loose the rubber face that waits with hope
of an afterlife no one knows but a rope
might point the way and as Ma hits the stub-
end of the driver she nods to un-dub
her Patti-cakes you know don’t be a dope
and gazes up grins lovingly up at
her ancient cherry where the answer looms
hung over a backyard tires find their homes
the tree she loves though far too high and fat
loves though the town might hate the flock that comes
to live off it and damns the air with prate
* * *
it gives life to those damned foul birds who prattle
in it but God knows how such big trees need
more than the feathered friends its fruit may feed
our tree wants kids your swingin’ and chit chat’ll
drive those birds hold it a sec there that’ll
do girl Ma pops the trunk open to read
their faces who see where some tires’ roads lead
a rope rope it’s rope for the swing they tattle
hu-mon-gous thick hard coil unlike a twine
this could leash elephants or ships to pier
smudged fists reach wrestle a forty foot and mine
you lemme hold it hey don’t fight I’ll fire
you from your jobs you fight hush Ruth don’t whine
that is some rope Ma’s angels grab the tire
* * *
it is some rope my angels grab the tire
they have and form a neighborhood parade
around the farm house to the huge tree stayed
but only a lonely towering black spire
grown taller than low fruit pickers require
they stand and gawk how high should it be made
Ma spreads an end of rope where the tire is laid
and loops which branch that one O no that higher
Ma ties it good and tight sits down and plants
her feet against the doughnut marked her pants
her whole self hauls against the knot she placed
gru-unt the kids come scurrying like ants
at honey to help too late for Ma says faced
to her tree hi sighs O my what a waste
* * *
we want her high and Ma ties to her waist
the other end of the rope and her head snaps
up its trunk where to tie what branch perhaps
that one points at the shed high thick and braced
for weight of little angels chased
their swing back here Ma breaths deep wind and slaps
around the trunk a hug just like she wraps
Pat sometimes when she’s goofy but grim-faced
this time and grips and pulls her legs wrap hard
and push and Ma herself above the yard
has never till now climbed and yet she makes
good progress till a Bethlehem-thigh breaks
rough tree skin free slips freezes and then aches
upward Pat’s Mother reaches around wood scarred
* * *
up wood another reach Pat’s Mother’s scared
come back grinds herself up whole flesh fierce-bound
to rough bark where her soft skin bloodily ground
to wood leaves spots of red from hands legs pared
peeled shining scrapes this first adventure shared
with them a wounding one and Ma has clowned
around at times this one time now has crowned
them all for Pat for dangers Beth has dared
please no Ma Beth’s good angel has not seen
her so injured so high and dangerous
o please Ma has a frown who’s never been
so up before all for a swing for us
she barely straddles their branch in the green
good whew the highest best branch there no fuss
* * *
this’s good Ma sighs yes best branch Pat don’t fuss
but Ma huffs hard as slowly she unties
her waist end then she freezes there and sighs
a breath toward the earth where kids discuss
how high the branch that she must crawl down was
that rope a forty foot don’t pull it why’s
she staring down at us googlie-eyed guys
and Ma has jerked the rope Pat says because
she’s afraid jus’ climb down Ma but Ma cries give
a hand kids grab the tire that’s good you raise
it overhead get your hands up as I’ve
heard Pastor tell you do when we give praise
get those arms up kids stand like cows and graze
or lift and get a swing if I survive
* * *
Pat thinks what does that mean if I survive
she hasta been a tomboy Ruthie says
Ma gasps now kiddos LIFT everyone prays
and lifts and up to Heaven thin arms drive
like Boom good holy Pastor says to revive
the droopy heads bowed low at Church Sundays
and O they lift it knot up and it weighs
so much but push harder O they strive
together upward Heavenward till taut
and firm the rope goes it’s the heaviest
thing angels ever felt together caught
on praying hands and everyone now crest
and crown of hard curse burdens angels blest
to help to hold until Ma ties its knot
* * *
they help and hold Ma ties until it’s not
the burden of thin arms ha there it floats
good magically off marked fingers look coats
of road the signs of victors never thought
it would end her stained angels gush she got
it bearing gifts no more the offering notes
now sung and there received from arms and throats
from cars’ hard axles to cherry altars brought
the end it floats the tire swing gently turns
still smells like journeys run the long hard burns
of asphalt into treads brought to a stop
but it rolls sideways turns no tire could hope
those bound to steel staves and fixed engine churns
like this slave roped with Ma still at the top
* * *
freed from the rope Ma still is at the top
good thing done kids that was so good however
says she and seems about to cry kids never
should do what I just did climb here you’ll drop
and promise me I will watch and I’ll chop
this tree down don’t cross fingers nor get clever
just promise if okay that is forever
Pat hears Ma gasp and looks to see Ma flop-
swoop off the branch O screams as her back angles
a head first plunge from right side up to slaughter
Pat throws hands over her mouth her breath strangles
but Ma’s legs flip past her head she has caught her
hands in her top knot where she swings and dangles
gotcha she laughs at them that coarse harsh plotter
* * *
fool-djya she shouts again the rope course plotter
hand under hand climbs down and slips a peek
through strained arm pits at Pat who hears rope speak
its first word bearing Ma its sneaky knotter
it sings her to the tube till she is squat there
legs bowed on its round top to test a break
as weight new lowered makes each fiber creak
Ma Beth breaths deeply and smiles at her daughter
you were scared I heard you Pat says no
her eyes wild no I knew that you was lying
did not Ma bends her knees seems to be trying
to push the tire from under herself slow
at first her weight pulls bends against rope flying
with her and good Ma makes it turn and go
* * *
with her and good Ma makes it go and go
in-er-tia she breathes with a grunt and push
mo-men-tum Ma coughs straining through her smush-
face pulling hard the rope when she swings low
then easy she stands at the high end’s slow
fa-zoom they watch her on the good swing woosh
the children hear her laugh as though the rush
of tire shoves breath through her but cannot know
momentum’s meaning what is understood
Pat shares those watching her fly on the ring
and this is Heaven Ma cries barreling
through air and laughing till they cry she should
give us a turn and they tackle the swing
Glad to ha yep we got that that’s damn good
* * *
I’m glad too yep she got that Pat said good
Ma said no don’t but Pat had had a touch
of life cinched to a tree that was as much
a riddle as the answer yep allowed
its touch gave life not mere words prattled proud
by John but rope of angels in her clutch
and wasted time swung high the loss of such
time reached with mother past this old scarred wood
no fuss Pat sighed toward the branch Ma fought
her way up to that day what did it mean
the branch survived and held its ties its knot
not broke free at the top still there I’ve been
fooled ya of course the rope’s a joke some plot
her good Ma made it go and she had seen
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