Hey, a Petrarchan sonnet! I, for the life of me, cannot write Petrarchan sonnets. Half way through I always wind up forgetting that I'm supposed to be doing so, and I mince pentameters and forget the rhyme scheme (usually in the form of an ending cuplet). The result is never pretty, and usually (when read aloud) sounds like bad Beatnick poetry or--worse--amateur hip-hop. So kudos first go for form and function here.

And, as a free-verse writer, I must admire someone who can pack that much punch into measured lines like that. You convey the chapter beautifully and with lovely images in the most rigid poetry form invented. Counting syllables, lines, AND rhythm? My head hurts just thinking about the effort.