Sunday, July 11, 2010


Sonneteer's Note: This is another contribution to #SpokenSunday, for which I've chosen, perhaps insanely, to write villanelles. CLICK HERE FOR THE AUDIO VERSION.

A car, a man, a skateboard -- that's the scene With which this tale of woe and change began.
No ambulance was called though. Instead, Dean,

Just took himself to urgent care. The keen
And frightful pain was hard to bear; the man
Had walked in on a fractured pelvis, green

And ailing. There was, too, a ruptured spleen,
The surgeons found, and told his wife, Diane,
He'd be as good as new. The breaks were clean.

The new hip was a splendid one. Unseen,
Its bearer formed a madly wild new plan,
And soon appeared in hospital, a mean

And urgent laceration in between
Two parts of one joint festered 'crossed that span.
Then more appearances, near seventeen.

An x-ray or airport detector screen
Would flag him as a menace on each scan.
He shrugs, though; that is just his new routine
(If there is still a ghost in that machine).

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