Sonnet
13. The audience tenses like a spring, in a panic threatening to trample itself.
1. Contain myself? Suppose I lost the key.
2. A thought bubble drowsy with algebraic equations.
4. Frozen mid-swivel in the chair, the cartoonist regards the pencil with envy.
8. Mr. Spring and Mr. Slinky, they despise each other.
5. Cracked my funny bone bungling the slapstick routine.
6. She customizes her gas mask with mother of pearl buttons.
8. The café a gather point for exemplary goatees.
9. Grown from the smear in a petri dish, a devil tests negative.
9 ½. In conclusion,
10. the devil is in the conclusion.
I defrost my limbs and deliquesce (11. & 12.)
VII. My demons soak in the clawfoot tub.
3. The sign on my temple reads out of order.
13. I carve the alarm clock out of deep freeze.
14. The last cigarette in the carton dreams up a firing squad.
14. A scribble of scalp clogs the keyhole.
Storm Door
Ear: Pardon? I was lost in a maze of distraction.
Gnats: The peanut gallery ain’t what it used to be.
Ear: Louder, gentlemen! Screech your tires of commerce.
Gnats: We finance your latest time-wasting gizmo.
Ear: Primed to plant your fleur-de-lis in figment?
Gnats: Plans hinge on the swung outward storm door.
Ear: Ahem, I’m tapping my proverbial feet.
Noon: I’m stuck! Snagged my lapel clearing the horizon.
Gnats: Already too late. You overshot our paygrade.
Noon: Don’t sell out before I get there, sparky.
Gnats: Heard the one about the fly and the ointment?
Ear: Yes, though I’ve never seen it performed live.
Gnats: To all that, tedium is to be preferred.
Gnu: From primordial tedium I come bearing… the tail.
Tail: I, metronome against the gnat argosy.
Noon: Where a tale goes, the head trails after.
Ear: I fear you’ve opened up a Cannes of wyrms.
Gnu: Gnomes in the Metro strike for recognition.
Nous: What in the name of gas is leaking here?
Ear: Axis of amber and gnat argosy in cahoots.
Guess: Storm door’s unhinged – wax lunacy hemorrhage.
Noon: Viscous lunch hour traffic. No one’s coming.
No one: Nothing less than total refund, buster.
Gneiss: What irritant abrades your tranquility?
No one: Gnats! Up and sapped the gears of gnosis.
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William Repass lives and works in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poetry has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, Word For / Word, Denver Quarterly, Hotel Amerika, Threadcount, and elsewhere. His critical writing may be found at Full Stop, Colorado Review, and Slant Magazine.