SONNET: Estlin

o Estlin i know the Elaine you stole
from good ol' Thayer and how eager she was
to grab you by the hips (how droll!)
and how you miss your Nancy because
now Estlin i saw that check and balance
when she took your words and verses
and all your little commas in malice
made of porphyry and lingering with her curses
o Estlin how your hands turned blue
when Elaine found that Irishman, so tall
who took your beloved from you
across the ocean, where Nancy became nothingatall

and now, o Estlin, you sit and ponder well
how the poets (you and i) can rectify our hell

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