Villanelle

By Bruce Bawer

It was as if a new world had begun.
Mia spoke, and Ronan tweeted: “Listen,
we’re all possibly Frank Sinatra’s son.”

A simple truth, yet guaranteed to stun,
precisely since it was beyond dismissin’.
It was as if a new world had begun,

as if, sans Lotto ticket, one had won!
Was this the piece that always had been missin’?
“We’re all possibly Frank Sinatra’s son.”

One felt like Aaron hitting a home run,
a fisherman watching as John prepared to christen
Our Lord in the Jordan, a new world now begun!

Was your mother once a tasty honey bun,
a sleek bobby-soxer, lips ripe for the kissin’?
We’re all possibly Frank Sinatra’s son.

After all, Mom never was a nun.
Think how those eyes could shine, those full lips glisten!
It was as if a new world had begun.

Imagine: one starstruck night she came undone –
perhaps at the Copa – yes – and let the bliss in.
It was as if a new world had begun.
We’re all possibly Frank Sinatra’s son.