Light gets cruelly overworked. Sweet June
comes last, pentameter’s fifth stress,
almost always rhymed with good old moon.
To make fresher verse, sonneteers obsess,
scan thesauri, i. d. Eden’s snake -
rattler? garter? asp? Not a moot
point. Antoinette talked generic cake.
We think bombe or torte. A woman – beaut?
hag? fox? felt-hatted Greta Garbo,
pinafored Snow White? (While iambs play,
a real cop grabs his stick, beats a hobo;
unmetered lines will speak another day.)
For now, the couplet’s wrist – zircon? rhinestone?
Which spritz - My Sin? lavender cologne?
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About The Author
Margaret A. Robinson has had over one hundred poems accepted in publications like California Quarterly, Fiddlehead, and Bathtub Gin. A print chapbook of thirty of her cheekiest poems, "Sparks," is from Pudding House Publications.
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