1. My wife once said I should write more love poems. 2. So I wrote a poem about sloth moths. 3. There really was love in it—to a certain moth, a sloth is home. 4. Home is another word for love. 5. I hope that doesn’t sound trite. 6. Actually, I don’t care if it does. 7. Today I thought I should write another love poem. So, here I am thinking about Sherman Alexie 8. and his #’d sonnets (the form of which I am copying now). I don’t know whether to apologize to my wife or Sherman. 9. Once, while pretending to be bird geeks, my wife and I saw a Caspian tern. It was huge—it hung in the air like the Hindenburg (before it caught fire [the Hindenburg, not the tern]). It looked dangerous (the tern). I thought terns were supposed to be small and delicate. 10. I lied. We weren’t pretending. 11. A sonnet is supposed to have a tern in it. 12. That was just one of our many wanderings (the drive where we saw the Hindentern). 13. There’s nothing easier than driving or walking with, camping or sitting on the couch with, being a bird geek or reading Alexie with my wife. 14. With is another word for home.
Sonnet, with home
Steve Tomasko's new chapbook, and no spiders were harmed was recently published by Red Bird Chapbooks. You can read more about it at Steve and his wife Jeanie's webpage at: jeanietomasko.com. Steve has now run out of things to say about himself. If you really want to know more about him, buy him a root beer sometime and ask him what kind of insect he’d like to be in a future life.