Italian Sonnet
Not now la strada
of corpuscles
di ronzio, diesel
Vesuviuses
that punish their kind
per respirare.
My appetito brakes
for tangent slice
off ancient beltway
and scoots around
the Exxon
where machine guns “cured” Mussolini’s baldness. Stop hard
for this additional gift of news:
Simon and Garfunkel are dead.