Sing Song Sonnet Persecuting the Poet

Miss Woman, over here, Woman I say,
Won’t you please join me for coffee today.
Don’t worry, of course, I like it done Dutch
For the Woman’s sake, I don’t pay for much.

Look, I’m reading a French Feminist play,
Women of Color, PC and OK.
I write modest poems, no rhyme and such;
Just true words, cautious tone—What? I can’t touch?

You’re late? You’re going? Give me time, don’t leave,
I’ll flip you the queen shoved down my shirt sleeve:
I’ve read Rich!
                         “You?”
                                     Yes, but she’s sure a bit—
(Uh oh, bad bet, no, wet, yet, won’t concede!)
I only meant she’s difficult to read!

Miss Woman, yes you, dear Woman I say,
Perhaps you would join me for tea today?

~~ from Spark Park: A Tale in Two Parts

pure, unadulterated mediocrity

"And when I reflected back on our post-prom trip to the Jersey Shore four years earlier, it occurred to me that some of the people who were still with us had since then gone to jail; some had sold and used drugs; most had drifted into lives of pure, unadulterated mediocrity; a few had babies they weren't prepared to raise; at least one had died. Charles and I were the only alumni from the group with our futures still intact, and that kind of bond doesn't easily unglue."

~~ from Losing My Cool by Thomas Chatterton Williams

how fond I waxed for thee

"But now, at the Spark’s entrance, Zak’s gaze turns to grin as crater-sized dimples reveal his true love. A couplet trespasses through his brain: “Oh park, dear Spark, how fond I waxed for thee/ while twiddling my thumbs in said Northern library.” Zak’s ebullience defies reason. Could he be fond for a depressed second-string city? Fond for a city park? From a cursory view, it seems like an ordinary park. At one end stand the half-eaten nets, at the other a jungly gym for children—logs, tires, pipes, and junk sculpted into a dog in crapper stance. Over the years, multitudes of . . . mutts have gotten the hint, and like many city parks, stale and fresh doggy doodoos dot the terrain."

~~ from Spark Park: A Tale in Two Parts

reading was his lone salvation

from Losing My Cool by Thomas Chatterton Williams

 

What Happened When My Wife Died

I hope to return to Charles Bock's "What Happened When My Wife Died."

the list of stolen books

"The fact that she didn't have genuine proof of identity, the way her accent shifted, like her grandfather's, the old guy's strange ideas, their peculiar way of life, even her skill at outwitting alarm systems: all of this suggested that our love affair had been a trick, not a trick performed by two human beings in order to deceive a third, but a product of my own delirious imagination. Except that I wasn't crazy, I had proof that both of them existed: the list of stolen books, Ahmed's testimony (unless he was in on the scheme), and Juana's, and the hospital bills."

~~ from Severina by Rodrigo Rey Rosa