This bad sonnet wants to punch you in the gut
Make your momma cry and your dad get drunk
The rhyme makes you think you woke with a slut
Or made bad sexy with a tattooed punk,
You get done reading and your mind’s gone wild
Like a tornado pickup truck four wheel drive
Ripping up a cornfield like a crazed meth child,
Wondering if you wanted still to be alive.
But a sonnet can’t hit, and your dad don’t drink,
Your momma seems happy and your loved one mild,
And the scene with the pickup truck—just spilled ink,
Lines on a page, like this one (there, you smiled).
A sonnet can turn like that, bad to good,
Or come out swinging like Mrs. Tiger Wood(s).