Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #70
This Tennis Court
by Belinda Roddie
This tennis court was once a skeleton
of a manor, owned by a wealthy yet
agoraphobic family of five:
The Earl of Braggart was wistful in rooms
as he scribbled away on his own arms
to turn calligraphy into tattoos.
His wife, the Duchess Chagrin, painted red
over both eyes and cheeks, but never on
the lips. Their two sons, Condemned and Confused,
did sway their heads to Gregorian chants,
drugging themselves with opium each night.
The youngest, Daughter Slight, held a pillow
to her chest even as she ate dinner,
but all the family just got thinner.
by Belinda Roddie
This tennis court was once a skeleton
of a manor, owned by a wealthy yet
agoraphobic family of five:
The Earl of Braggart was wistful in rooms
as he scribbled away on his own arms
to turn calligraphy into tattoos.
His wife, the Duchess Chagrin, painted red
over both eyes and cheeks, but never on
the lips. Their two sons, Condemned and Confused,
did sway their heads to Gregorian chants,
drugging themselves with opium each night.
The youngest, Daughter Slight, held a pillow
to her chest even as she ate dinner,
but all the family just got thinner.
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