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A Sonnet Catches a 

Glimpse of Its Reflection

Am I the mess that you
want me to be? And is
this [demonstrating its
architecture to its reflect

ion]? That mimicry is
flattery has this (and
all) sonnets expertly
puffing their chests –

proudly AND sexily.
Love can be seedy
and filled with growing
trees. Thinks the poem,

on its knees, all ego:
“abab cdcd efef gg.”