Derek has asked us to write a new sonnet, starting with a prose skeleton for us to flesh out into a new sonnet. They’re in the form of a “Letter From Crusoe.” I have no idea what I’m doing.
Crusoe watches the waves and thinks about God’s creations living in the water. His
island is a lush kingdom with a bounty of reserves for the taking. In his mind he
measures the distance a crab can cover in a few seconds and decides he’ll have to build a
Crusoe builds his trap by gathering up drift wood and lashing it together with grasses
he plaits at night. He can’t even see his hands but the familiar motion requires no
guidance from his eyes. The traps look rickety but he has given it his best so he finds a
small pool to lay it.
Crusoe waits for hours before checking his crab trap and when he goes there he finds it
empty. He curses god and in his dismay he destroys the trap and walks away. The sand
is hot on his soles and he imagines hell. The visions make him fearful and he begins to
beg God’s forgiveness.
Crusoe has a dream that night. The island is made from plaited wood and he himself is
within it. He is lost until he sees a bright light. When he walks toward it he sees God
waiting for him.