Below is a Villanelle I wrote for my poetry workshop class. I wrote this very last minute and was flattered by some of the comments I received in class.
– Dahv
The day shuffled in when you left.
Your sweatshirt hung on the hook.
My room smelled of lemon zest.
Sweatshirts’ body was plump like a vest
and purple like the plum you never took.
The day shuffled in when you left.
I feel your nerves bundle in my chest,
drop, swing: grandfather clock’s spine in the nook.
My room smelled of lemon zest.
Your tongue tackles, treats words like guests.
I told you to never read my book.
The day shuffled in when you left.
I leave you, slouched in the corner to nest.
Beneath your lips, your smile rattled, shook.
My room smelled of lemon zest.
I know I can be such a pest
but I offer to wash dishes and cook.
The day shuffled in when you left.
My room smelled of lemon zest.