Tyson West
Hooked
(Curtal sonnet)
You too were swallowed by the sting of rhyme.
Blank smiles and boredom wrapped your fallow mind
you jot the dots on Dora's dress, then look
to Johnny for some hint—a smirk may climb
across his face. As you watched clock hands grind
your teacher sensed, then conjured up her book
of dancing words. Miss Fair slapped me with Poe.
Their raven pierced me while strong tides would bind
your heart to this—the endless quest we took
that bound our souls to beat. Nancy, we both know
rhythm's hook.
Bio
Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington. He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate.