My heart was pounding out a sonnet

Da dum da dum da dum da dum da dum

Written to the rhythm

In neat little sets of five

While a sestina slithered from my lips

Twisting and turning

On jagged, bony edges

That somehow fit together into one

A villanelle was knocking at my brain

Each stanza ends the same

With the glorious words that triumph

In their simple beauty

While a pantoum proceeded

To tell me a story

And the next chapter couldn't let go

Of the last, of the past