Plahm builds this poem on a single structural device—the anaphoric “Sometimes,”—and rides it through seventeen variations without ever losing momentum. Each stanza offers a different manifestation of the beloved’s halo: shadowy ghost, perfect golden crown, protective wrapping, wandering searcher, formless morning mist. The genius lies in treating the halo not as static symbol but as living entity with its own moods and movements. It wanders “as if searching for something,” it points toward the speaker, it shifts colors with the beloved’s inner state—”grey with sorrow, / blue with reflection, / red with fierceness.” The stanza about bystanders—”witness / to other people in ordinary settings / affected without knowing / what is going on”—extends the beloved’s radiance beyond the private relationship into public phenomenon. The emotional arc moves from observation through attraction (“pulling me / towards you”) to devotion (“It’s all I need / in my life”) to surrender (“It’s everything”). The closing meta-turn—acknowledging the luxury of sitting and pondering “what it is— / to feel wonder”—reframes the entire poem as an act of gratitude for the capacity to perceive beauty at all. The final italicized “Sometimes—” left hanging, unfinished, is the poem’s most eloquent gesture: some wonders refuse closure.

A hypnotic, meditative love poem that proves anaphora, when wielded with discipline, can create cumulative emotional power rivaling any narrative arc. Each “Sometimes,” stanza adds a new facet to the central image without ever repeating itself—a considerable feat across seventeen variations. The decision to treat the halo as a sentient, shape-shifting presence rather than a fixed metaphor keeps the poem alive and surprising. The color-emotion stanza (“grey with sorrow, / blue with reflection, / red with fierceness”) is the poem’s richest moment, suggesting the speaker reads the beloved’s inner life through her aura like weather patterns. The closing meta-reflection—gratitude for the ability to feel wonder—elevates the piece from love poem to philosophical statement. Minor weakness: the poem’s length and repetitive structure may test some readers’ patience, and a few stanzas (“It’s intimate / a soothing personal / feeling of calmness”) feel less vivid than the strongest ones. But the unfinished final “Sometimes—” is a masterstroke, suggesting that wonder, by definition, never resolves. A poem that makes patience itself a form of devotion.