Villanelle Against Backsliding
This villanelle came out of an exercise I did with Ciara, where we exchanged lines to write our own poems. The goal was to interact with each other’s writing in a new way, and to explore repetition.
The moon glows softly, but I am wary.
The night is cold, and the boat empty.
Just us, together on the Staten Island Ferry.
You steal glances. Eyes blue and bleary.
The wounded look? Your offish posture? Tempting.
The moon glows softly, but I am wary,
Skeptical of the text you sent and the weight it didn’t carry.
This “hangout” is contrived. An apology? The perfect entry.
Just us, together on the Staten Island Ferry.
But it wasn’t “just us” last week. There was—what’s her name? Sheryl—or Sherri?
Your awkward silence is its own pathetic sea shanty.
The moon glows softly, but I am wary.
I know where this is going; call off your iPhone dignitaries.
Save your excuses. I know you’ve got plenty.
It’s just us, together on the Staten Island Ferry.
Take my advice: The next time you’re trying to get married,
Make sure your inbox and DMs are running on empty.
The moon glows softly, but I’m too weary.
Of this—just us—together on the Staten Island Ferry.