Sonnet About a Handgun with Diamonds
I am writing this sonnet about
a handgun with diamonds. The light
fires off the facets and dazzles.
But this is a handgun alright.
We are swinging through somewhere quite louche
in a taxi that smells of incense.
The mirror is hung with red tassels.
The driver is black and farouche.
If none of this makes any sense,
remember this sonnet’s about
a handgun encrusted with jewels
and, as such, the usual rules
should be left at the door. Got that? Right.
A handgun is what this is about.
—C. J. Allen
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from A Strange Arrangement: New and Selected Poems (Leafe Press, 2007)