I really, really love villanelles. And I'd really, really love for this to be in my school's literary art journal, but since it's about the teacher who runs it I'd better not submit it. Not yet, at least. There's no rule that says alumna can't submit poetry.

But anyway, I hope that whoever reads it enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


I sold my soul to slavery.
She wasted it, to my chagrin,
And thought that it would comfort me.

In prior days, my hand was free,
But her world thrived, so with a grin
I sold my soul to slavery.

Her eyes aglow with gold debris,
She stuffed my heart with phony Zen
And thought that it would comfort me.

I heard her speech, had to agree,
Sank deep into her trap and then
I sold my soul to slavery.

A warning filled my mind's marquee,
But I ignored my head again
And thought that it would comfort me.

I had great plans for what I'd be
And threw them to the martyrs when
I sold my soul to slavery
And thought that it would comfort me.