Sestine Skin


Oh, your skin is so remarkable!
More remarkable than mine!
Do suffer that I can’t stint
a comment how your tow
hair reflects the sun!  Outstanding
blend—your hair and skin—sardonyx!

You recall the one he gave sardonyx—
a kin in luster, one remarkable
rara avis that left him outstanding
in sycophancy of that line, not mine.
Yea, it was to my lot to tow
him back again, in lenity sans stint.

What I offered—all mothers, cousins, a stint
in my home.  But they all don sardonyx!
What I made—a fair bid to take them in tow.
But this made him bet some remarkable
hoodoo would trade her time for mine.
It did not.  And my offer is outstanding.

I’ll have no debt outstanding,
to a guest in my home.  I don’t stint
with wages.  I’m fair, such as mine
were fair before me.  There was no sardonyx
then, just people.  Some were remarkable
and some were fair.  We took them all in tow.

He loves her still, he claims.  He tows
some desire, the water outstanding
in his brain.  It was a remarkable
aberration.  The hound’s stint
stopped short upon that darkly sardonyx,
even if for diamonds he’d built the mine.

Her father was honky-tonk, like mine,
like yours?  Mine was fairly neat not to tow
some dark legacy with sardonyx,
though I’m sure the mothers were outstanding,
was yours?  Unlike him, Father had one remarkable
gift.  Father knew his stints.

No, it was not mine to be outstanding
but to guard tow-away and thrive on my stint—
no hope sardonyx makes remarkable.


Steven Ray Smith